


She's Got a Heartbeat Full of Lead (and she's aiming straight for the head)

by Dots



Category: Persona 5
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Goro Big Bang 2020, M/M, One Shot, Past Lives, Reincarnation, Slow Burn, Temporary Character Death, blood mention, mild body horror, slow burn as in through several lifetimes slow burn, this one is a doozy folks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-27
Updated: 2021-01-27
Packaged: 2021-03-12 18:20:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 43,734
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29015001
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dots/pseuds/Dots
Summary: Goro and Akira are reincarnated through lifetimes, each one ending in its own brand of ruin. But after a lucky mistake, they inch closer to uncovering the truth behind their devastation—and to finding a way of ending it.
Relationships: Akechi Goro/Kurusu Akira, Akechi Goro/Persona 5 Protagonist
Comments: 15
Kudos: 104
Collections: Goro Big Bang 2020





	She's Got a Heartbeat Full of Lead (and she's aiming straight for the head)

**Author's Note:**

> hello!! :D this is another fic i did for the Goro Big Bang 2020! please check out the art by my partners for this event, @[jerrybeannn](https://twitter.com/jerrybeannn/status/1354520539147235330?s=20) and @[crafty_scrafty](https://twitter.com/Crafty_Scrafty/status/1354520574886899713?s=20)!! go give their pieces some love, they're absolutely beautiful!! :D 
> 
> i hope you enjoy :3 and a big thank you to Hayley for being a fantastic beta!!

_**15xx** _

_As simple as a flick of the wrist. Not the beginning, but a place to start._

_***_

Goro wouldn’t say he missed dining out.

He wasn’t fond of crowds, to say the least. It wasn’t that he’d have an episode if he grazed shoulders with a stranger—keeping up appearances was just a consistent annoyance. People knew him, they knew his family name, if he stepped a toe out of line he was sure to hear about it from neighboring gossip. Smiling and looking pleasant was a perfected act, but an annoying one.

And to that, he could hardly understand why Kurusu had taken it up as a _career_.

They’d met after one of his performances. Goro hadn’t heard Kurusu’s stage name before, and was surprised to find he was a nobody even after he’d been uncovered. A quiet man shrouded in some mystery, where he’d been gaining popularity but was known to disappear quickly.

The rumors were that he wouldn’t take part in the _after business_ —Goro wondered why they felt too high and mighty to say _prostitution_ —which was common in the acting scene. That maybe Kurusu thought himself above the occupation. He’d hear these same busybodies say it was a shame.

When Goro met him by chance, he wasn’t sure what to expect. Maybe a well-off man with his priorities skewed and a typical demented outlook on his fellow citizen. Or maybe a sleaze.

But something unexpected had come from their conversation. He was reserved, and maybe not humble but certainly not gaudy. Private—insightful. Goro found himself asking to speak with Kurusu once again, and maybe a little glad he agreed.

Today was one of those requested outings. They still didn’t know each other well, but they were shortening the distance. Their little venture that morning was a breakfast at Goro’s invitation. It was the opening day of a performance by Kurusu’s troupe, and Kurusu had spotted a leading role. Goro was looking forward to seeing him on stage again, and decided to call their breakfast an early good-luck.

They’d already arrived and ordered their meals. But at that moment, Goro sat waiting for Kurusu to return to the table; excusing himself to the bathroom a few minutes ago. Maybe only out of paranoia, Goro felt eyes on him. He smoothed out his clothes and sat with his back straight, looking as delicately refined as he was taught to. He willed Kurusu back faster.

When the food was served, Goro took up his chopsticks and didn’t wait—good food lasted only as long as the steam did, and it eased tension having something to do. He didn’t get far before Kurusu rejoined him, bowing politely.

“I hope you don’t mind I started,” Goro said with a sweet smile, not actually much guilty.

Kurusu shook his head. “I just hope mine hasn't gotten cold.”

“It’s only been a minute or two.” Goro took a bit of rice, watching as Kurusu got himself settled at the table. “Though, perhaps you could entertain me with the spectacle of scarfing it down before it cools off?”

“I think I’ll be doing enough entertaining for you today, Akechi-san.”

Goro hummed. Plays were full-day events, he _hoped_ Kurusu might interest him at some point.

“If you’ll last as long.”

Kurusu smiled, a rarity outside the stage, and twirled his chopsticks in hand. Goro held eye contact as he took another bite, and thought that getting to know Kurusu might prove itself amusing. He felt a little haughty, that he caught the notoriously disappearing actor.

“I think you’ll be impressed tonight. If not from _me_ ,” Kurusu began, dipping out of their gaze and earning a light scoff from Goro. “The set is gorgeous. It’s a dream to perform on.” He looked at the customers and staff, before craning his neck out farther to shorten the distance between them. He spoke with narrowed eyes and a hushed voice. “The backstage business got a bit out of hand to get it there, though.”

Maybe Goro didn’t like gossip revolving around himself, but the lives of others were absolutely open game. He arched an eyebrow to prompt Kurusu on.

“We’ve got a few new stagehands, and they’re talented but definitely _new,_ ” Kurusu elaborated, looking almost pitiful. “There’s a way we tend to go about things, and some tensions rose with a few stragglers. I stayed out of it but, believe me, I think there’s a few grudges to go around.”

Goro grinned. “Drama behind the scenes, even? Quite the show you’re putting on.” He paused and wrapped his hands around his teacup. “I wonder if it’ll be visible on stage.”

“I think I’ll get you interested enough to keep anything else out of your head.”

Goro took a long sip. “I hope you’ll live up to that.”

After eating their fill and Goro’s polite insistence of paying (nothing beats the _ever generous_ patrician), they left the restaurant with anticipation. If he had ever seen Kurusu beaming, it would be now. Goro wondered why he was so passionate—an answer would be interesting to search for.

“I need to be there early,” Kurusu said, gesturing towards the path to the playhouse. “So I might have to leave you here.”

Goro nodded. “I suppose I’ll see you soon.” He waited a moment, frustrated that he hesitated but couldn’t help the nerves. “Though maybe you’ll see me after?”

Kurusu raised his eyebrows and took a step closer to him, tilting his head devilishly. “You want me in your evening plans?”

“Perhaps you could make your typical disappearance one that comes to me.”

With a slow inhale, Kurusu let shine that smile of his, letting Goro revel in a piece of genuinity he knew was special to him. He was sure that Kurusu felt the same way—this might’ve been the start of something worth blooming.

“Why don’t you meet me back here, then,” Kurusu offered. “We’ll make it a night out.” He turned away, walking back towards the theatre with a wave.

Goro called out to him. “Don’t leave me waiting.”

Kurusu turned back and bowed his head lightly, then made his way off. Goro watched him leave, turning the corner and disappearing out of sight.

Next he’d see him, he’d be someone else. And while Goro was looking forward to the performance, he found himself anticipating the aftermath of simply Kurusu more.

***

Goro’s expectations had been thoroughly met. Not even halfway through the performance had he gotten lost in Kurusu’s role.

The production was nearing its end, and it’d been incredible. From the acting to the costumes, nothing fell short of dedicated professionalism.

And, just as Kurusu had bragged, the set was fantastic. It was something that helped tie every element together. Ornate, with an impressive use of trapdoors and mechanisms for show tricks. To make the unreal seem plausible, actors disappearing and set pieces unfolding into new scenes. It was a performance unlike any Goro had seen before, and chilling to view in the flesh.

But despite its detail, most of all had Goro been enthralled by Kurusu.

Every move he made and line he spoke captured Goro’s attention. He played the role of a woman dressed in blue, torn apart from the man she loved. It was a lovers sucide play; a scenario written out and performed dozens of times. But Kurusu’s character was brought to life in ways that Goro could never have imagined. It was impressive.

He stood center stage, alone and reciting something pointless. Goro didn’t really care what—it wasn’t the character he was interested in. But he’d pick up on what he could, if not only for the sake of conversation. Though, wrapped up into Kurusu as he was, retaining much would be a challenge.

Kurusu’s character was anguished. She was sobbing for her lover (Goro presumed), and was contemplating death. Considering the lengths they’d taken already, Goro wondered how it would be staged. A simple cutting wound, or something drastic and symbolic.

There was a loud crack that brought Goro out of his daze. It made him jump, along with other audience members, and even Kurusu seemed startled. It was just genuine enough that for a moment Goro thought something had happened. Though maybe Kurusu was just that good—Goro hadn’t been paying enough attention to notice if it was truly out of place.

The scene continued seamlessly. If it _had_ been a mishap, Kurusu handled it with grace. Without a hair out of line, Kurusu’s monologue hit a climax point. A long pointed knife was drawn from the sleeve of his kimono. A classic approach to her death, then.

Gripping the knife in both hands, Kurusu raised the blade above his head. His character gasped and wailed, and another crack resounded through the theatre. Now Goro was almost positive the sound had been intentional. A little odd, but it brought along a feeling of dread. He leaned into the scene.

With a final word, Kurusu’s character had come to her conclusion. In a downwards swoop Kurusu brought down the knife towards his stomach.

Accompaining the scene was a final crack, and a large beam coming crashing down from the ceiling. With a thud it landed center stage, appearing to have fallen utop Kurusu.

The audience gasped, and Goro felt his heart stop.

Goro had been wrong, he assumed, that they wouldn’t give the suicide a dramatic staging. The beam sat intimidatingly firm, clearly seeming to have crushed Kurusu. It was an impressive trick, Goro convinced himself. Perhaps it had fallen in front of him, or even a quickly timed trapdoor had been used.

Wood was splintering up from the floor, and the scene wasn’t progressing. It could be the case the beam had fallen harder than they thought, and were scrambling to devise a way to continue. He’d have to ask Kurusu on their outing afterwards. Maybe nothing could be without accident.

Suddenly, there were screams. _Finally_ , Goro thought, assuming this was the continuation of the act. As typical for these plays, someone was sure to rush on with the news of her death. He felt himself relax—despite his assurance of Kurusu’s safety, he couldn’t help but tense up.

But the screams didn’t end. Actors began to flee the stage and burst into the crowd with fear. Most of the audience stayed unsure and still, probably thinking, similarly to Goro, that it was an interactive performance. But with another creak from the ceiling did a wall of the stage crumble down, giving a view of the setting red sun.

The realization hit. The audience joined into the panic, pushing and dashing away from the theatre like animals. Terror clouded into the air. Before Goro could think he was on his feet too, running and shoving along with the crowd.

He wasn’t going towards an exit, however. Goro squirmed forward, towards Kurusu. No one had checked, there was a chance that he was still alive and crushed beneath the beam. That it had just landed on a leg, or an arm, or maybe he’d fallen unconscious on impact.

It was like pure instinct. Climbing over seats and rushing up the stage, throwing himself at the beam with all his might for a chance of releasing him from beneath. He stepped through the broken wood, and with a sob in his throat, he pushed.

And he pushed.

And he pushed.

***

Goro hadn’t expected the Kurusu household to be entirely vacant.

No mother or father, grandparents, spouses, children. An empty home, thoroughly lived in but no owner left. There were no _traces_ , even, of a family.

Goro didn’t know exactly what he’d gone there for. To offer condolences for a man he’d barely known? Give stories of, what, witty banter over steamed rice? He’d probably have made a fool of himself. A sour sense of relief washed through him in the empty house, but he thought this couldn’t be the end of Kurusu’s story.

However, upon digging, Goro found that Kurusu was hardly someone at all _._ Goro couldn’t find a family grave or even a distant relative. With a feeling of horror, he realized that Kurusu wouldn’t be receiving a funeral. His body was more than likely to be simply dumped away somewhere, letting birds and animals fight over the carcass.

On a whim, Goro announced he would pay any services for Kurusu out of pocket. A funeral, along with a proper cremation. Any expenses at all, he would cover them. Goro couldn’t give an answer to why, and rumors spread quickly as to his reasonings, but he didn’t care. There was something about Kurusu that had Goro wanting to give him something proper.

Without a family grave to bury him and with no known descendants, Goro paid for a place personal to Akira Kurusu. A tall hill near Goro’s home, and a stone grave marker carved with care. It sat under a tree.

Goro would never understand why he lingered there. Why he would see something that he thought _maybe_ Kurusu would’ve adored in life, and place it gingerly on his grave to honor him.

He’d go there to think, to read, to anything really. People began to call it an obsession, and Goro agreed. There was something he didn’t understand—or perhaps he had Kurusu out to be someone else in his head. But he’d sit under the tree and rest for a while, and somehow feel just a little closer to knowing why.

But, as he should’ve known, no answers would come from underground. And even by his dying breath, he came no closer to a resolution.

—————————————————————————

_**2xxx** _

_Easy to gain, quick to lose. Predictable doesn’t begin to define you._

_***_

Goro woke up feeling as groggy as ever.

Sleeping didn’t come easy to him these days. He could hardly remember a time that he started a morning feeling _fresh._ Yawning and stretching his arms over his head, Goro thought that he’d like nothing more than to wrap himself back into his blankets and fall asleep.

Not that he thought he’d be able to, though.

He rolled out of bed and pulled on a pair of socks. First things first, he’d go to the kitchen and get a kettle going on his stovetop. By no definition of the word was he a cook, but he could make an easy tea. Boiling water and dunking a tea bag into a cup was simple enough.

He pulled out his iron kettle and filled it with water, and flicked the dial on his stovetop to high. With a concerning sputter, the flame started up and then went out.

Goro frowned and tried again, turning the dial back and forth until it stopped working completely.

Fantastic.

Of all things, Goro did _not_ want to call a repairman while he was on zero caffeine and tight on his cash. Not to mention he wasn’t sure there were any engineers for this in the small community he lived in. The closest service around was probably somewhere in the city. Goro could imagine that the fee would only raise with added distance.

He tried flicking the dial once more. It didn’t even click this time, just pathetically twisting without a trace of the flame. Goro scowled at it.

He sighed, and slumped down into a chair by his front window. It was far too sunny outside for his oven to be broken. Neatly kept lawns and birds chiming in trees, while Goro was grouchy and _really_ wanted to slouch back into bed.

It occurred to him that an old neighbor of his had once come to him for an appliance problem. A much older woman with a broken sink. He couldn’t help, and she’d left to ask another resident. With a frown, Goro remembered who that resident was.

There was an absolute recluse who lived across the street. Goro wasn’t sure if he’d ever _seen_ him before, but he’d certainly heard the rumors. Gossip that he kept to himself because he was dangerous and malicious, or was running a drug den in a shady part of town, or even that he was a murderer who kept piles of bodies in his basement.

Goro didn’t exactly think they were true, but they held a certain amount of ground. Basically, the neighbor kept to himself, and talked to no one, and was maybe a _little_ suspicious as far as community standards went.

But apparently, he’d fixed his old neighbor’s sink. That certainly took some skill, and she’d come out just fine.

He sighed and decided he may as well ask, it (probably) wouldn’t kill him. If he was lucky, he’d fix his stove and Goro wouldn’t have to empty his wallet for a cup of tea. With a dissatisfied groan he got up to get dressed, not exactly feeling motivated.

Leaving his house, he looked around a bit before crossing the street. He wouldn't go as far as to say he liked _any_ of his neighbors, but he did like to keep up a certain appearance. Chatter could turn vicious easily, and talking to the recluse probably wouldn’t earn him any points.

Before he could second guess himself, he walked up the porch and knocked quickly. He waited, pulling his jacket a bit further into him, before the door opened to reveal his neighbor with an easy expression on his face.

“Hey there,” he greeted with a smile. Goro blinked a few times, surprised at how normal this guy seemed. Messy black hair and a pair of glasses sitting on his nose. Goro wasn’t sure what he’d been expecting exactly—maybe some sort of scary lumberjack type. But this man was lean and casual, possibly even around Goro’s age.

That didn’t mean Goro was thrilled to be here, though. “Hi,” he began, still a bit desperate to get the interaction done and over with. “I know this is coming out of nowhere, but. I live across the street. I think the gas on my oven broke, and I heard once from a neighbor that you’re the handy type.” He sighed quietly. “I’m sorry to ask, but do you think you could help me with that?”

For a moment, the man's face visibly fell. Goro wondered what he’d been expecting, because surely an _oven_ wouldn’t be something to cry about. But it turned into an expression of something almost fond, and his loose smile returned.

“Sure,” he said. “I can help with that.”

After a long second, his neighbor pulled on his own light jacket and a pair of shoes. Soon they were crossing the street together. A quiet walk, and an absolutely awkward one too.

“I’m Goro Akechi, by the way,” Goro introduced, outstretching a hand as an attempt to fill up the empty space.

“Akira Kurusu.”

Silence came again. Just as awkward, or maybe even moreso. It felt weird opening the door to let him in, with unsure nods and stiff sentences as he led him to the kitchen.

“Here it is,” Goro said with a strained smile. “When I try to turn the burner on, it won’t start.”

Kurusu walked up to the stove, and turned the knob just like Goro had. Once met with the same enigmatic result, he hummed.

“Is it… fixable?” Goro asked hesitantly. “Or, do you not know enough yet?”

The oven was at the end of the countertop, with one end exposed and the back to the wall. Kurusu squatted down next to the open side and gave it a looking at.

“I’ll probably need to pull it out and check the back to see,” Kurusu said. He turned around to Goro. “But I bet I know what’s wrong. It’s definitely fixable.”

Goro watched from the kitchen doorway to let him do his work. Admittedly, it was impressive to see Kurusu slide the oven out from its place enough to give access to the back—Goro was sure it must’ve been heavy. Kurusu peered thoughtfully in the narrow space, before sliding his arms behind and tinkering around. Soon, he stood back up and turned the dial again.

A flame stuttered to life, and Kurusu smiled with satisfaction. A sense of relief washed through Goro, thanking any god he could that it’d been a quick fix.

“Thank you very much,” Goro said as the oven was pushed back in its proper place.

“No problem.” Kurusu wiped his hands together, and folded his arms. “But you’re probably gonna want a professional to look at it if you want a more permanent solution.”

“Of course.”

Goro absolutely did not think he was going to call someone, at least not for a little while. Maybe after a few paychecks he’d consider it.

After another round of _thank you’s_ and _no problem’s,_ Goro showed Kurusu out and locked the door behind him. He felt his mood ease now that he was alone again. Perhaps Kurusu had seemed normal, but that hadn’t really been enough to get to know him.

Returning to his kitchen, Goro flicked the gas on and off. Fully satisfied with the stove _and_ with the recluse well out of his house, he refilled his kettle and made his tea.

***

Goro was idly pushing his cart through the local grocer when he realized that he should, at least visibly, thank Kurusu more thoroughly for his help.

He didn’t exactly _want_ to say thank you; he had no intention of getting close to the neighborhood hermit. But Goro had a reputation he wanted to keep upheld. It was annoying, but he’d do it for the sake of keeping himself pleasant in as many minds as possible.

Maybe he could send Kurusu a thank-you card. Mail it to him with a little bow, and write a message of thanks. Of course, that meant he’d have to come up with something sweet to say, and Goro worried that seemed too… _inviting_. He’d keep the idea in the back of his mind, but wandered through the store in search of anything else he could do.

He came across the pastry section, and it occurred to him he could just leave something on his doorstep. A visual thank-you, and he could put a little tag with salutations and a signature. It’d be easy, and if his neighbors saw him do it they might think he’s just being polite.

Grabbing a cheap loaf of lemon bread, he set off to the checkout. He thought that maybe if he was lucky, some hungry animal might run off with the treat. Goro might still get his brownie points, and he wouldn’t have to worry about coming off as some sickeningly kind request for friendship.

If anything, he was doing this for his own conscience and for his neighbors to see. It didn’t really matter if Kurusu got the bread.

He left the supermarket feeling satisfied, wondering how he might attract birds to peck through the plastic and leave no remains.

***

A week without disturbances went by, before the inevitable downfall hit. Goro tried and tried to no avail to turn on his stovetop. Broken again.

_Goddamn it._

He hadn’t called anyone to properly fix it, obviously, because he’d hoped it would last longer than this. His stove wasn’t even very _old,_ it was apparently just moderately suicidal.

He peeked out his window to look at Kurusu’s house, but thought better of it and sat down. He didn’t want to have to ask again, especially not so soon. Tea wasn’t his lifeblood, he could survive a morning without it. Settling down into one of his chairs, he pulled out a book and tried to relax.

And then, he stretched his back, and stifled a yawn, and stretched out his arms, too. He rubbed his face and tried to focus, and then couldn’t focus, and took a hot shower. He even thought about going back to sleep, even though he knew he wouldn't be able to. Exhaustion didn't equavilate sleepiness.

After checking a clock wondering how much time was left in the day and realizing only an hour had gone by, he swallowed his pride and trudged over to Kurusu’s house.

“Hi again,” Kurusu said, looking Goro up and down. He could feel his mood worsen with every move Kurusu made.

Goro was reluctant, but he was already there.

“I really am sorry to ask, but. My stovetop broke again.”

The grin that Kurusu gave was about the worst part of Goro’s morning. He thought about slapping it off his face, and then thought about how he was _really grumpy without caffeine._

“I’d be happy to help,” Kurusu replied, and after putting on a pair of shoes, they walked back over to Goro’s house.

In the kitchen, Kurusu pulled the oven out and fiddled with whatever was back there. It was embarrassing having him over again for the same problem so soon, though Goro chided himself thinking he _shouldn’t_ be embarrassed, because it was _Kurusu’s shoddy fix._ He frowned watching him work.

“I hope it isn’t too much trouble.” Goro half meant it.

Kurusu shook his head, and Goro was annoyed to see he looked pleased.

“You’re fine. It isn’t that hard.” He stood up and dusted himself off. “Though, I don’t have the parts or the expertise to give you something that’ll last forever.”

“Ah.” The shame was beginning to well up in his stomach. He tried to justify himself, not really wanting Kurusu to think he’d just decided to ignore his advice. “I’m just a bit reluctant to call someone out here, with the travel expenses and all.”

Kurusu laughed a little. “No, I get you. There’s no one around for miles.”

At least he didn’t sound condescending. Goro still couldn’t say that he was in the mood for antics. He’d just like his _tea now, please._

“But, you know,” Kurusu began, pushing the oven back into its place. “It isn’t a problem to fix it, if you don’t mind me coming around from time to time. I wouldn’t complain if you’d treat me to another snack like before, though.” He leaned against his finished work with a chuckle.

Goro tried not to show his displeasure that no starving squirrel had at his gift. But thinking about it, Kurusu’s offer might work to his benefit. Buying treats from time to time was much cheaper than an overcharging repairman service.

He laced his fingers together and sighed.

“If that will satisfy you,” he said, and they had an agreement.

***

With another loaf of lemon bread in hand, Goro stood at the front porch of Kurusu’s home second guessing their entire deal.

From then on forward, Goro had to ensure his gifts weren't stolen; he had a repairman to keep at his beck and call. However, now he had to knock on the door and _hand him the bread_ , and maybe even indulge in conversation. Annoying, a waste of time really, and what if someone saw. Goro wasn’t so shallow as to never be seen with someone a little scruffy, but nothing bothered him like wandering minds.

He steeled himself for the worst, and knocked at the door. He waited until the last second to put a smile on his face, replacing the deep scowl he’d been sporting.

As expected, Kurusu was home and at the door within a minute. His face brightened seeing the treat, and Goro was relieved he was content with something like this.

“Good morning, Akechi-san,” Kurusu said, again with an easy smile on his face. “I really do appreciate it.”

Goro tried to relax, Kurusu was just a neighbor. This surely wouldn’t take too long. “It’s nothing.”

Kurusu lingered at the door. He made no move to take the bread from Goro’s hands, leaving Goro to awkwardly stand and shift his weight. His expression made Goro think he wanted to say something, and he hoped he’d get on with it soon.

“You know, I still haven't finished what you gave me last time,” Kurusu finally began sheepishly. “I’d be more than happy to share.”

There was a certain willpower it took for Goro to keep a frown from twitching onto his face. That was obviously an invitation, and not one he wanted to accept. One of the most prevalent rumors around Kurusu was about his home. Whether or not he _hid bodies,_ Goro was doubtful; but he’d heard its all around state wasn’t pleasant. Wading around in the trash of a recluse wasn’t exactly on his bucket list.

“I couldn’t, this is a thank you,” Goro said, trying to be genuine.

“I don’t mind.”

Irritated, he took a full moment to weigh his options. Unfortunately, he absolutely did not have anything better to do. No excuses to give, no places to go. Goro wasn’t above lying, but being found out might make any other interactions awkward, if Kurusu didn’t decide to stop helping him all together.

He’d been able to see just a bit into Kurusu’s house from the entryway, and it didn’t seem _too_ awful. He was also fairly sure Kurusu wasn’t a murderer at this point. If they were going to have an agreement, he may as well solidify it.

“Alright.” Goro conceded, internally ready to turn tail at any given moment.

Kurusu seemed extremely pleased, and Goro decided he wouldn’t think too much about what that meant. He hoped he wasn’t getting any ideas.

Upon being shown in, Goro was actually impressed at how normal the house was. None of the rumored filth or garbage, just a home. Cluttered at worst.

Kurusu seated him at his dining table, and went off to get them drinks. Goro set the bread down in the middle and glanced around. There was nothing too odd or out of place—it made him wonder where the rumor came from about Kurusu. It was almost suspiciously normal.

With two glasses of milk in hand Kurusu came back, then turned once more into his kitchen for plates. Goro stretched his neck up to watch him over the half-wall, and to check if there was anything strange in the other rooms. He was met with nothing out of the ordinary.

Well, that was one rumor wrong, he supposed. It did earn Kurusu some kudos from Goro.

Coming back and setting the dishes, Kurusu took a seat across from Goro and unwrapped the bread. He took one piece for himself and let Goro grab his own slice.

“You want butter, or anything?” Kurusu asked, to which Goro shook his head. With a nod, Kurusu tore a bit of bread off his piece and took a bite.

Goro followed suit and thought in the silence. All in all, that was two rumors wrong. Kurusu and his house seemed entirely normal, though he guessed he _could_ be hiding something. Goro hardly had a reason to believe so, but rumors always came from somewhere. There was a source, and it’d piqued his curiosity.

“So, you live alone, then?” Goro asked between sips of his milk. A little guise of small talk could go a long way.

“Ah, yeah.” Kurusu nodded. He leaned back in his chair and set his food down. “This was my childhood home, but my family moved out a long time ago. I just ended up coming back.”

Goro thought to himself that he’d probably stay miles away from his _own_ childhood apartment, but nostalgia was a strong temptation for some people. “Oh really?”

“Just someplace familiar, you know?”

Goro hummed in agreement. Maybe even a third rumor wrong, that he’d come here for some sort of darker purpose. He may as well keep probing.

“It’s very impressive you know how to fix something like an oven,” Goro said, egging on the conversation. “Mind if I ask how you gained such an expertise?”

Kurusu smiled weakly. “I ended up with a lot of practice, if you’ll believe that.” He sighed, like he was considering the question deeply. “But honestly, it’s probably because I’ve had to be a bit of a fixer-upper. Odd jobs and things, but that was in the past.”

“In the past?”

“Before my old job.” Suddenly, a bit of sheepishness began to worm its way into Kurusu’s expression. “I, uh, used to be a writer. Though I’m mostly living off old funds now. Taking some time to myself, I guess.”

That was interesting. “A writer?” Not an occupation Goro would’ve expected, though perhaps that made sense. He might’ve been less of a recluse and more of a man who kept to himself, serious about his work. Goro waited for his explanation.

“For a while, yeah. Mostly detective novels, especially at the beginning.”

“ _Really_?” Goro couldn’t help sounding a little eager. “I’ve read my fair share. Though, I can’t say your name is familiar to me.”

Kurusu had that sheepish look again, like he wasn’t proud of himself. “I used a pen name, actually.” Goro raised his eyebrows in anticipation, but Kurusu looked away. With hesitance, “Usually I went under Ren Amamiya?”

“Oh.” With a sinking feeling in his stomach, Goro realized yes, he _had_ heard that name before. “Did you write _‘My White, Her Blue?’_ ” He almost hoped he’d say no. That was, quite honestly, a disaster of a novel. Not a favorite, it was one that found itself in a used donation bin years ago.

With an exhale, Kurusu’s face turned to shame. “I’m embarrassed you read that. It was an early one.”

Goro tried to put on a reassuring face. “Oh, don’t be like that. It was a fine read,” he lied. A little frantically, he wracked his brain trying to remember if he’d left a snarky review or not.

Kurusu smirked. “I can tell you don’t mean it.”

Caught in the act, it seemed. Goro pressed his lips together in an attempt to hide a nervous smile.

“Well, it wasn’t a favorite.”

Kurusu just laughed.

***

It was now the fifth time Goro was standing at Kurusu’s door with some sort of lemon treat, and he was convinced there was something he wasn’t telling him.

They had normal conversations. Pleasant ones, even. Maybe Kurusu wasn’t a socialite, but he was easy to talk to. Despite how Goro had attempted to fight getting along at first, he was genuinely a good neighbor. Probably one of his favorites in this community of PTA moms.

And in that case, Goro didn’t understand _why_ Kurusu’s reputation had sunken to an all time low. Not socializing much didn’t exactly equate a solitudinarian wannabe. He’d heard stories that he was an _escaped convict,_ not that he was living quietly in the home he grew up in. They had been getting along just fine, Goro wondered how so many rumors had been kicked up.

He knocked at Kurusu’s door the best he could with his hands full. He had his treat, yes, but also his blender. Goro did not use it, or even attempt to use it—he’d only accepted it to play into an act he wrapped himself into during one of their conversations. Yes, he would admit to _himself_ he only wanted to seem impressive, but he wouldn’t say it. Somehow it seemed like Kurusu knew he was lying, but he lent him the blender anyway. A little irked, Goro wished Kurusu had just called him out on the lie rather than put him through this.

Kurusu opened up with a _“good morning_ ,” and Goro nodded kindly. Kurusu helped lighten Goro’s load and took the blender from his hands. Showing him in as usual, Goro sat in his typical chair and put the food on the table while Kurusu put away Goro’s comprehensive fib.

“Everything work out fine?” Kurusu asked, like he knew that blender hadn’t been touched while in Goro’s home.

“Exactly as I’d wanted.” Not a lie, Goro thought, since he’d had no inclination to use the utensil anyway.

Kurusu smiled as he came back from his kitchen, before sitting down in his spot across the table. He reached over to the wrapped plate and was happy to see a little stack of cookies under the foil. He took one graciously, and Goro did the same.

As Goro had gotten to know Kurusu a little better, he found there was a comfortable silence to get lost in. Less awkward and more intentional. It was nice, and he wouldn’t have expected it.

With that in mind, he couldn’t help but go back to his skepticism. The rumors were well out of hand at this point, and Goro wanted to get to the bottom of it.

“Do you mind if I ask you something?”

Kurusu wiped a crumb away from his mouth and shrugged. “I don’t mind at all. I’d call myself an open book.”

There was some hesitance that Goro couldn’t overcome. It _did_ feel rude to just ask right out of the blue, but. He wouldn’t get anywhere otherwise.

“You know that there are some… rumors about you, don’t you?” Goro began, trying to sound more concerned than curious. “About being some sort of frightening recluse. I would’ve assumed you’d be quick to disprove those?”

Much to Goro’s relief, Kurusu didn’t seem upset at all. Like it was a question he’d seen coming from a mile away. “I’m surprised you still came and asked for my help even when you’d heard that,” he said with a smile, and he folded his arms. “But, I guess you could say those are a little intentional.”

“Intentional?”

Kurusu let out a bored sigh.

“Well, believe it or not, I’m cursed.”

“ _Cursed?”_

Goro coughed, but Kurusu didn’t elaborate. With uneasy sarcasm, he continued. “How old fashioned. There’s much more reasonable ways to solve disputes.”

“You’re telling me.” Kurusu let out a pathetic chuckle.

Goro supposed he’d heard of curses before. Largely in folklore and fairy tales, sure, but there were the occasional bits of the unknown that were attributed to something more supernatural. How much of those theories Goro actually believed was debatable, though he was closer to a solid no than an unsure yes.

“May I ask what this ‘curse’ might _be?”_ Goro asked, still thinking Kurusu was pulling his leg. “Don’t tell me I’m going to die in seven days.”

“Nothing like that,” he grinned. He scratched the back of his head, and let out another sigh. “Anyone who falls in love with me forgets me the moment they do. That’s all.”

He’d said it with such an air of seriousness, Goro wasn’t really sure how to react.

“Oh.”

Kurusu stared at him with that easy smile of his on his face—one that Goro could now see looked very, very tired.

“So I wouldn’t say I go out of my way to make myself known.”

***

Goro discovered that Kurusu was quite the cook.

Some evening in late spring, Kurusu asked Goro over for dinner. He’d accepted casually, though the thought of a home cooked meal was undeniably appealing. Living off microwave dinners every night was fine, but it got old.

Kurusu remained a mystery to Goro as well. He was getting a certain enjoyment unraveling bits and pieces of his elusiveness. It was interesting to spend time with him, and to ignore the rumors that might be flying around.

For their dinner he cooked risotto, warm and flavorful. It was refreshing to eat something that wasn’t pre-cooked macaroni. Kurusu’s smug smile at his enjoyment was something he could’ve gone without, though.

“Glad to see you like it,” he commented as Goro took his final bite.

Goro narrowed his eyes as he chewed. So _complacent_ , he was lucky that expression didn’t turn his food bitter. “I didn’t know you cooked.”

“It’s just a hobby I picked up. Though, it’s also nice to cook for friends. Satisfied expressions never disappoint.”

Goro pointedly frowned. All Kurusu’s self-fulfillment did was give Goro more incentive to deal some snark back.

“How awfully welcoming. I wouldn’t expect it.” Goro paused, and pushed his plate away. “Since you’re trying so hard to keep anyone from talking to you.”

Kurusu shrugged. “It’s worse to be alone.”

Goro hummed. He wondered how he could push this. “Then why don’t you socialize more often?” He took a moment to read Kurusu’s expression. “You can’t be getting many guests like me.”

Above anything, now Kurusu looked awkward. He pursed his lips out, and then folded them in, like he was thinking.

“I’m… keeping myself available, I guess.”

Goro folded his arms and tilted his head, waiting for his elaboration. With a deep inhale and a low hum, Kurusu went on.

“In case anyone wants to come back. I remember, after all.”

Suddenly joining Kurusu in that feeling of uncomfort, Goro thought it might be better to change subjects entirely.

***

In the blazing heat of summer, Goro truly had no idea why Akira would go out of his way to keep up his garden.

He watched him from the shade of his backyard balcony, as he tended to whenever Akira insisted on sticking his hands into dirt. Goro frowned, thinking he should buy himself at least a sunhat, or something, before he got sunburns up and down his neck.

Cycling through plants and treating them with specific care was impressive, but not something Goro envied. He preferred his food sterilized and on a plate in front of him. While he could admit that in Akira’s defense he _was_ a cook and _at least had hobbies_ , Goro was more than content watching him from afar with a cold drink in hand.

Akira had been putting special care into one section of the garden. When he finally moved on, Goro looked around to see what he’d been paying so much attention to. Feeling a bit hypocritical, he was pleasantly surprised to see it was a patch of watermelons.

He wandered out into the sun to get a closer look. All wrapped together on a vine, still growing but getting bigger.

“You have watermelons,” Goro commented with a smile, earning Akira’s attention. He knelt down next to the patch. “I’m quite the fan. Something about the sweetness.”

He watched as Akira’s chest filled up with what must’ve been a little pride. “I’m glad you like them. They’re actually sort of complicated to grow.”

Goro wouldn’t have guessed. He looked with a bit more attention now, wondering what about them made trouble. He already knew Akira was the type to create challenges for himself, it was annoyingly laughable to see he took it even to his gardening habits.

Kurusu went back to his gardening. “I guess I’ll have to keep up the good work, then.”

“Don’t let me down.”

***

Goro was sitting at the library for the second day in a row, thumbing through pages of what seemed to be mostly useless information about curses.

He’d brought along notebooks and pens, and was trying not to feel too silly while he was noting down relevant topics. If he focused hard enough, he’d forget that this was a fictional fairy tale that he was using for reference.

The longer he’d known him, the more Goro realized Akira was sincerely convinced he’d been cursed. Largely Goro assumed this was something like a trauma response, or maybe just a desperate grab away from a painful reality. Though despite the cause, it was obviously something he felt affected by.

Goro’s research was an attempt to fall into Akira’s mindset. Find a cure that would work as a placebo—just giving him the illusion that the curse was broken might create a chance to recover. Or, as the little voice in the back of his mind reminded him: if the sliver of a possibility that this was a genuine curse turned out to be true, maybe this research could help break it.

The thought that Akira was just a spectacular actor kept coming to mind. Goro thought he’d gotten to know him well enough that he could tell a lie from the truth, but the fear would come back to him. Something about it seemed right, even though he was certain it wasn’t. But second guessing himself would only lead him in circles.

It was getting late into the day, and Goro thought he probably looked delusional. Though even as he wrapped up, he felt confident with what he’d learned. Far from well-versed, but at least able to hold a conversation.

He gathered his materials and put his books away, before he set off out of the library. A librarian smiled and waved on his way out, telling him “ _as always, you’re welcome back, Goro-kun.”_

Goro smiled back, though there was guilt behind it. He didn’t exactly come by often, but perhaps he was just one of very few patrons. He wouldn’t be surprised, with the small town they lived in. Maybe he _should_ come back, see if he could pick out a better title by _Ren Amamiya._

For now however, he wanted to go straight to Akira’s. The information was fresh in his mind, and helping Akira through his predicament was a priority to Goro.

When he arrived at his doorstep with his arms full of papers (and maybe out of breath) Akira grinned widely and asked for an explanation. Goro provided a loose one, walking in a known path to the dining room table.

“It might be a bit out of character, but if you’re having trouble I’d like to help you,” Goro explained, spreading out his work. “Maybe there’s something here that could help you.”

Akira leaned down onto the table, a warm expression on his face. “You didn’t have to do all this.”

Goro knew he didn’t. But there was something so melancholic about everything around Kurusu. Not just himself, but his house, and his hobbies. Whatever this was had an effect on him, and Goro wondered if he was so deserving of that. He didn’t take Kurusu the type to simply concede, so perhaps he just needed some incentive.

Goro sat down, and reviewed the notes with Kurusu. He was partially trying to educate him in an attempt to convince him a curse might’ve been a drastic assumption, and partially… he was showing off. Akira at least seemed impressed.

“Curses always have ways to be broken,” Goro said with a bragging intelligence. “Otherwise, it wouldn’t be a ‘curse.’” He paused, and looked at Akira quizzically. “Do you remember who it was that cursed you?”

“Nope.” Akira frowned. “Part of the curse, apparently. I don’t remember who it was, or _how_ it was, just that I’m cursed.”

“And you’re… sure it’s a _curse_?”

“Oh, believe me. I’m sure.”

Goro went back to his notes. “Well, that isn’t too unusual, I suppose.” He’d read a few stories with a similar idea. And if it was some sort of curse to do with _other’s_ memories, it wasn’t too out of the park to think it could affect _Akira’s_ as well. And if it wasn’t a curse, maybe Akira had his mind altered by different means—which meant there could be a way to knead his falsified memories back just by activating something cognitively. “Curses come along with certain requirements. Identifying those would be detrimental to the opposite party, which could be why you don’t remember.”

Akira hummed thoughtfully. “How do you mean, ‘requirements?’”

“Certain steps being needed to perform a curse is typically the norm in folklore,” Goro began, feeling a bit less embarrassed seeing how seriously Akira was taking this. “Those steps could have a clue as to how to undo your curse, or perhaps losing your memory was _part_ of the curse.”

Akira flipped a page of Goro’s notes, reading carefully. “A way to break it, huh…” He grinned, and leaned towards Goro. “Like a true love's kiss?” He gave a wink, and Goro rolled his eyes.

“For your sake, I hope that isn’t the case. I’m not sure you want to go around kissing strangers.”

“Mmm,” Akira hummed. He flicked past another page. “For what it’s worth, I’ve already tried.”

He glanced up at Goro, and the look in his eye was hurt. It was hard not believing him, and it was hard seeing him like that. Goro looked away.

“Then we’ll find a different way,” he said.

***

Goro lost count how many evenings he spent having dinner with Akira. It was just about a nightly occurrence, now.

Though there was something off about Akira tonight. He toyed with his food and was quieter, more than his usual. Goro didn’t make a comment. If it was something he wanted to talk about, Akira was the type who’d say something.

They ate in silence until their dishes were cleared, and Akira invited Goro to sit in the other room. Akira took the couch and Goro sat on an armchair, ready to listen to whatever he had to say.

Goro waited. Akira fiddled with his fingers. He was obviously debating speaking up, and Goro let him mull it over. If he didn’t say anything then Goro wouldn’t care, maybe he’d bring it up another night. He kept waiting.

Eventually, through a deep breath, Akira came to a conclusion.

“What could I do,” he began, not even attempting to make eye contact. “To make you hate me?”

Goro hadn’t expected that. A silence hung, Akira chewing his lip waiting for a reply.

“...I’m sure you already know I can’t stand you,” he replied, and got a weak laugh out of Akira. Goro sighed, since obviously Akira wasn’t satisfied with the answer. “Is this about your love curse? Relax, I won’t fall for you. You’ll keep your company.”

Akira nodded slowly, like he didn’t really believe him. It pissed Goro off, a bit. He went on.

“I think it would be hard for you to truly get under my skin now, Akira. At least in ways that you already haven’t—though you do continue to surprise me. But I think you’re misunderstanding something. I’m absolutely the type to pick and choose. I’m not here because I pity you, or some sense of obligation. If I were to _hate_ you, it would be something much more predetermined. We’d have nothing in common in the first place. Unfortunately, you might be stuck with me.” Goro took a moment to think.

“Though, I don’t want to hate you. I’ll be clear in that way. And, I’d recommend you don’t try and _make_ me, so I don’t fall in love just to spite you.”

Akira was quiet, but Goro had said all he wanted. So he waited once more for Akira to very quietly, just barely over his breath say, “okay.”

***

The sound of the oven being pushed back into place was almost comforting. It at least meant Akira was over, filling up the empty space in Goro’s home.

Akira stood and swiped his hands together for what felt like the thousandth time, and flicked the knob on the oven to reveal a strong flame, flickering like it would never go out. Goro didn’t believe it for a second.

“You know,” Akira said, turning off the stove. “I thought you didn’t cook?”

Goro frowned. A fair point, but not one that needed to be brought up. “I make tea.”

“Ah.” Akira fiddled with the knob once more. Goro wondered if he was growing tired of coming over once a week to fix something that was, honestly, a result of Goro’s procrastination. He certainly didn’t need to keep doing him favors in return for something store-bought.

“If it’s bothering you, I really can call a professional.”

Akira smiled at him like he’d just said something outrageous. A sweet lopsided grin, and a shake of his head.

“Not a bother at all. My little way of ensuring I’ve got guests over for dinner.”

Goro was happier to hear that than he thought he’d be. He didn’t give himself time to think about it, instead quirking an eyebrow. “‘ _Guests,’_ plural?”

Akira’s smile grew. “You,” he began, walking up closer to Goro and pointing at him. “And your _charming_ personalities.”

With a roll of his eyes, Goro waved Akira to the door. If he was well and done, then Goro had tea to make and personal work to do. Akira just laughed quietly, and with a goodbye was out and away.

Goro turned on his stovetop and put his kettle on the heat. As the water steamed and bubbled, he thought that he was just fine like this. A proper repairman might just be the opposite of a luxury at this point.

Since Goro liked the company, too.

***

“I’m… kind of shocked you know how to do that.”

Akira sat staring at Goro’s hands as he carefully hemmed a torn piece of Akira’s apron back to its former glory. How he’d torn it was irrelevant, but it was an easy fix. Goro had gotten his sewing kit from his house, and sat next to Akira on the front porch to work his magic. It felt nice, doing something that had Akira so in awe.

“It’s a skill I learned years ago,” Goro started, working his needle through the fabric. “I had a lot of secondhand clothes when I was younger. Things would tear, and eventually I just picked up sewing all together.”

There was a very genuine look of surprise on Akira’s face, and Goro wondered if he thought this was really so out of place. With a final pull and a knot tied, Goro held the apron out in front of him and gave it a shake. He folded it in half, and then again, and handed the mended piece back to Akira with an air of confidence.

Akira took it very gratefully. He picked out the newly sewn bit and rubbed his fingers between the fabric, like he was feeling the seams. There was something in his expression that Goro had never seen before.

“Thank you,” he said. He sounded moved to a point that Goro wondered if the apron was a keepsake of some kind. Surely the gesture couldn’t have been _that_ important to him.

Goro straightened himself up haughtily nonetheless. “Would you really expect anything less?”

***

In a little room off to the side of Akira’s kitchen, there was a piano.

“Do you play?” Goro asked, eyeing the dust on the key cover.

Akira hummed, walking over and swiping a finger across the side. “Just a little bit. I took some lessons when I was younger.” He rubbed his fingers together to get off the grime he’d wiped up. “I know the correct posture and finger positions and things like that.”

“I wasn’t aware of those kinds of rules.”

Akira pulled the bench out from under the piano, and gave it a dusting off before sitting down. He gestured for Goro to sit next to him, and he did.

“There’s a couple of things,” Akira explained, holding his hands over the piano. “You’re supposed to curve your fingers like this, and hit the notes with the tips. And you keep your wrists level with your arm, they shouldn’t be touching the keys.” He demonstrated with his hands and Goro mirrored him, trying to copy the best he could.

Akira set one of his hands under Goro’s wrist and lifted, then did the same to the other side. It was just a graze, but Goro felt himself shiver a bit. If Akira noticed, he didn’t say anything.

“I’m pretty sure a big reason the wrists are so important is so you don’t end up with like, carpal tunnel. That’s why my old teacher stopped playing way back, actually,” Akira said, eyeing his own hand positions. “She was strict about it because of that.”

Goro took care to keep his wrists in line. “I’ll certainly keep that in mind, then.”

Akira smiled and readjusted himself, dropping his hands altogether. “The other thing is the sitting position. We might have to scoot the bench back a little bit, actually.”

They stood and Akira pulled the bench out a little farther, before gingerly sitting back down and testing out the distance. He looked content.

“You sit right at the edge of the bench, all the way forward,” he said. “With enough room that your feet can touch the pedals, but also that your arms are relaxed by the keys. Not too scrunched up, but also not so you’re stretching out to reach them.”

Goro took back his place next to Akira. He copied his sitting position, doing as he was told and relaxing his arms in front of him. The keys were still covered, so he ended up just resting his fingertips on the case.

Akira hummed with satisfaction. “We’re about the same height, so it looks like we won’t have to worry about any more adjustments. Lucky for us, huh?”

Goro took his hands off the piano. “Not that I’m going to be doing much playing, anyway.”

Akira only grinned at him. He straightened himself up and lifted the covering to reveal ivory keys, untouched and waiting.

With a few beginning test notes, Akira began to play a tune. Goro watched his hands move, entirely surprised that he seemed more than competent. His skill probably went beyond ‘ _a little bit.’_

He would occasionally cross a hand over another, or use a pattern of hitting notes that was almost mesmerizing. The sound was impressive, but Goro was entertained enough just watching him play.

Suddenly Akira stopped. His fingers stayed ready on the keys, but he looked over at Goro, and then glanced down at the keys.

“Ah,” Goro said, realizing what he was asking for. Hesitantly, he hovered a finger over a note. Akira glanced up and down at him, and then jerked his head to the right. Goro tried out another one, where Akira nodded earnestly.

He pressed down, and Akira started up the tune immediately after. Goro rested his hands into his lap, until Akira stopped and looked at Goro again and prompted him to play his note. Goro couldn’t quite rope down a smile, and they began in a little back and forth.

Akira picked up speed, and soon Goro knew when he’d press his meager tone. He’d picked up on the rhythm, and Akira began to sway to it, dipping deeper into his music. It was almost a duet, the way Akira stopped needing to wait for Goro and simply trusted he’d pick out the key.

The song concluded dramatically, and Goro made sure to keep his hands far away from the keys as Akira played its grand finish. He held the final note, drawing it out and letting go just at the last beat. Looking back to Goro, Akira smiled.

“Wonderful job.”

Goro smiled back. “You’re better than you made yourself out to be.”

Akira looked proud of himself. He beamed a bit, and laced his fingers together before stretching his arms out in front of him.

“That was one of very few songs I have memorized,” Akira said, somehow still having the nerve to sound like he was gloating. “I’m probably not as impressive as I seem.”

Goro scoffed lightly. “You say that, as if having memorized the piece isn’t something impressive in itself.”

Akira obviously lit up at the compliment. For a moment he just grinned, before he put something a little more snarky on his face.

“You know, you really lost your hand posture while we played.”

Goro frowned. “Is that the fault of the student, or the teacher? Perhaps you’ll have to do better next time.”

“You want me to teach you to play?”

“Well, now I don’t know,” Goro began, maybe sticking his nose in the air just a little. “I’m not sure you’ve proved yourself too capable.”

Akira pouted. “Let me have another chance.”

He leaned closer to Goro, putting his hand down on the bench between them and pressing close over his shoulder. Tensing up a little, Goro leaned away, not from discomfort but just… surprise.

Goro took a deep breath, and glanced out the window. “It’s getting late.” He turned back to Akira’s gaze. “So why don’t you try and redeem yourself tomorrow.”

Looking pleased with himself, Akira relaxed his position. “I’ll be sure to put a lot of practice in.”

“I expect you’ll give me something worth looking forward to.”

Goro excused himself from Akira’s house, both of them exchanging goodbyes and friendly waves, but somehow Goro still felt bubbly even after he left.

He’d always come back home from Akira’s too late, and it was cold that night, as well—but Goro could feel something tingling in his stomach. It kept him feeling warm, even as he crawled into bed and tried to sleep.

He couldn’t, really. Something about Akira was keeping him excited. The way he kept him up at night was a bother, but it was welcomed. He wrapped himself up in his blanket as tightly as he could, and sat in expectancy for tomorrow.

It wasn’t until well into the morning that Goro fell asleep, idly taking the hopes of an intimate day with him.

***

Goro woke up feeling as groggy as ever.

Sleeping didn’t come easy to him these days. He could hardly remember a time that he started a morning feeling _fresh._ Yawning and stretching his arms over his head, Goro thought that he’d like nothing more than to wrap himself back into his blankets and fall asleep.

Not that he thought he’d be able to, though.

He rolled out of bed and pulled on a pair of socks. First things first, he’d go to the kitchen and get a kettle going on his stovetop. By no definition of the word was he a cook, but he could make an easy tea. Boiling water and dunking a tea bag into a cup was simple enough.

He pulled out his iron kettle and filled it with water, and flicked the dial on his stovetop to high. With a concerning sputter, the flame started up and then went out.

Goro frowned and tried again, turning the dial back and forth until it stopped working completely.

Fantastic.

Of all things, Goro did _not_ want to call a repairman while he was on zero caffeine and tight on his cash. Not to mention he wasn’t sure there were any engineers for this in the small community he lived in. The closest service around was probably somewhere in the city. Goro could imagine that the fee would only raise with added distance.

He tried flicking the dial once more. It didn’t even click this time, just pathetically twisting without a trace of the flame. Goro scowled at it.

He sighed and slumped down into a chair by his front window. It was all too pretty outside for his oven to be broken. White snowy lawns and icicles glittering in trees, while Goro was grouchy and _really_ wanted to slouch back into bed.

It occurred to him that an old neighbor of his had once come to him for an appliance problem. A much older woman with a broken sink. He couldn’t help, and she’d left to ask another resident. With a frown, Goro remembered who that resident was.

There was an absolute recluse who lived across the street. Goro wasn’t sure if he’d ever _seen_ him before, but he’d certainly heard the rumors. Gossip that he kept to himself because he was dangerous and malicious, or was running a drug den in a shady part of town, or even that he was a murderer who kept piles of bodies in his basement.

Goro didn’t exactly think they were true, but they held a certain amount of ground. Basically, the neighbor kept to himself, and talked to no one, and was maybe a _little_ suspicious as far as community standards went.

But apparently, he’d fixed his old neighbors sink. That certainly took some skill, and she’d come out just fine.

He sighed and decided he may as well ask, it (probably) wouldn’t kill him. If he was lucky, he’d fix his stove and Goro wouldn’t have to empty his wallet for a cup of tea. With a dissatisfied groan he got up to get dressed, not exactly feeling motivated.

Leaving his house, he looked around a bit before crossing the street. He wouldn't go as far as to say he liked _any_ of his neighbors, but he did like to keep up a certain appearance. Chatter could turn vicious easily, and talking to the recluse probably wouldn’t earn him any points.

Before he could second guess himself, he walked up the porch and knocked quickly. He waited, pulling his coat a bit further into him, before the door opened to reveal his neighbor with an easy expression on his face.

“Hey there,” he said with a smile. Goro blinked a few times, surprised at how normal this guy seemed. Messy black hair and a pair of glasses sitting on his nose. Goro wasn’t sure what he was expecting exactly—maybe some sort of scary lumberjack type. But this man was lean and casual, possibly even around Goro’s age.

That didn’t mean he was thrilled to be here, though. “Hi,” Goro began, still a bit desperate to get the interaction done and over with. “I know this is coming out of nowhere, but. I live across the street. I think the gas on my oven broke, and I heard once from a neighbor that you’re the handy type.” He sighed quietly. “I’m sorry to ask, but do you think you could help me with that?”

For a moment, the man's face visibly fell. Goro wondered what he’d been expecting, because surely an _oven_ wouldn’t be something to cry about. But it turned into an expression of something almost fond, and his loose smile returned.

“Sure,” he said. “I can help with that.”

_—————————————————————————_

_**19xx** _

_Distance is distance in the end._

_***_

Goro was dead. As a fucking doornail.

It was typical, the way he phased through days and floated about his house. How when he’d linger towards a beam of sunlight he wouldn’t feel it, and if anything it just made him more angry he was cold. Or how he would forget himself and drift down below, until whatever force holding him there brought him to a halt, no matter how hard he tried to wander.

He was a ghost. It’d been something he realized quickly, and even came to terms with.

For seven years now, he had been haunting the home he died in. Not that Goro knew much about ghosts to begin with, but he assumed this was only the start of a dreadful eternity. If seven years was enough to _get used to this_ , he could only imagine how bored he was going to be.

For what it was worth, Goro could feel something _._ While that something was the gradual and incredible pain of what he thought might’ve been his own corpse decaying, at least he felt. Though, he thought, if that really was the case—there was no way it could be in real time. Surely he was almost nothing but dusty bones by now.

There was also the coldness he felt. Bitter and numb. He couldn’t shiver or chatter his teeth, but there was an agony in his throat. He was wearing the clothes he’d adorned the day he died, but they didn’t do him much good now.

But in his seven years, he’d gotten accustomed to it. The cold, the pain, the dread—they were like three fractures in a bone, all working hard to let it finally snap.

There was someone moving in today. Against Goro’s will, obviously, but he didn’t have the influence to keep _everyone_ out. As stated by the law and his death certificate, he was dead; so whatever happened to his house stayed out of his hands.

This wasn’t the first time a stranger tried to move in. Just a year or so ago an entire family had tried. A cheap, empty home, fully furnished and well secluded—Goro could see the appeal. But this was _his_ house, and he didn’t need roommates to beat the rent.

He’d always scare them off. If he was going to be stuck here, he’d be damned if he didn’t make the most of it. Goro didn’t get his kicks off solitude, but it was better than nosy strangers.

As the scarce amount of moving men wandered in and placed boxes, Goro tried to identify the new buyers. The only character of note was one prosaic man, who Goro thought he remembered from a real estate agent a few months back.

Goro knew from eavesdropping that his home _did_ have a reputation for being haunted. The story was skewed as to who and why, but it was present. Meaning whoever this man was, he probably didn’t believe the rumors. Or maybe he thought he was tough.

It didn’t really matter. Everyone left as soon as they saw Goro, no matter the mental fortitude they prided themselves with. Most barely lasted a night before they turned on their heels and tried to resell the house, and then rinse and repeat. This man wouldn’t be different.

Goro spent hours aimlessly watching from above before he saw the moving men leave. With new incentive, he drifted down through the second story floor and stuck his head through the ground level’s ceiling. He watched the lone man settle himself in, ripping tape off boxes and pushing furniture to the side. It was funny, Goro thought, how little people tended to look upwards.

The man grabbed something or other to eat from the kitchen, and then started unpacking his first box. To Goro’s interest, he picked out one full of books. He started stacking them into an empty bookcase, and sighed to himself realizing how badly a dusting it needed. Though it didn’t quite deter him, and Goro thought he ought to take better care of his novels.

The man tired himself out and went upstairs for the night. Goro would’ve bothered him, but _new books_ were too tempting of an offer. A fair few of Goro’s possessions had been stolen or sold (so, stolen), including his book collection. There had been some that he managed to keep around, but he’d already read them time and time again. An unknown title would be nice.

Goro couldn’t touch anything, but he could move matter with whatever ghostly influence he’d gained. It’d been tricky to master at first, but now with a little concentration he could do more than while tangible. It wasn’t hard for Goro to will a book into plucking itself from the shelf and send it flying over towards him.

He sat (well, he didn’t exactly sit. It was habitual, so he would place himself in a chair, but it was more like he hovered on top of the cushion and crossed his legs performatively) down on his loveseat and opened the novel.

It was new and mildly intriguing, so he read long past the sun going down and didn’t stop until he heard shuffling from upstairs. He wondered if the stranger had woken up, and soon realized that he’d kept at it until morning.

Goro was curious as to what else the man had packed, so he decided to let him stay a little longer. When he eventually trudged down the stairs with a yawn, Goro hid himself back in his spot on the ceiling.

Contrary to popular belief, ghost as Goro was he still couldn’t turn invisible. A little translucent and blue, yes, but it wasn’t enough to mask himself. At best he might be able to let his head roll off his shoulders while his body hid somewhere else. Though as of that moment Goro didn’t think it would be necessary.

As the day passed by, Goro learned a little more about the man. The items he unpacked were pretty typical. He could cook decently well, making his own breakfast and lunches. And, when he’d left his wallet open on the table, Goro discovered his name was Akira Kurusu.

Though Goro’s mind kept drifting to the books. He wondered if he could snag a few, and then let _Akira Kurusu_ be on his way. It’d be easy enough.

When Goro had just barely begun his “ _new life,_ ” his possessions had been stolen with ease. Without knowing what he was doing or what he could do, he sat and watched as his most expensive property was taken first.

But he learned, and he was able to save a few things by sliding them under the floorboards. Sometimes he’d stick them high on beams in the attic, out of sight and out of mind. It wasn’t long until he realized he could just terrorize anyone trying to steal his things, and he was able to keep a tight security on his remaining belongings ever since.

So, he could do that again. Take a stack or two, bend up the wood on the floor and hide them beneath; then scare Kurusu out of his house and enjoy for a few weeks a new entertainment. Easy.

Goro stood in front of the bookcase, now fully stocked as of an hour ago. Kurusu was doing something in the other room, Goro thought he was cooking dinner, so there was time to pick.

He started by reading the titles on the spines of the books, ensuring to note if there happened to be any duplicates. There weren’t. This was an entire bookcase full of new novels to Goro, each one seeming more interesting than the last.

Maybe he could simply steal them all. He was sure there would be enough hiding spots. Kurusu would live if his collection was stolen by a bored ghost. And maybe if he came back in twenty years or so, Goro might be willing to loan them back.

Suddenly, there was a yelp. A little startled, Goro looked over to see Kurusu standing in the doorway. He had a look of horror and a plate of food in hand. He stared wide eyed.

Caught in the act, Goro guessed.

Just like that, Kurusu bolted out of the room. How anticlimactic. Goro always thought it was silly people were so surprised he was around—the rumor went far and wide this house was haunted.

He went back to looking through the titles, occasionally pulling one out and reading the back. It really was tempting to take them all. Kurusu hadn’t ran out of the house ( _yet_ ), so he might wait for him to leave before hiding them. It was going to be noisy, and it would be annoying if Kurusu called the police.

Ever careful though, Goro decided he’d pick favorites to hide if he ended up on a time crunch. He gently took a few and let them stack themselves on the table next to his couch. He might even get to continue his novel from earlier, if Kurusu decided to take his time cowering away.

Very gingerly, Goro heard steps coming back down the stairs. It wasn’t like Goro was going to chase him, though maybe he was trying to sneak out. Goro kept looking through the books, ensuring he didn’t miss any good picks.

The steps stopped. Goro didn’t pause, but kept an ear out for the front door.

He didn’t expect a voice.

“Hey there.”

Had Goro been alive, he probably would’ve jumped. He didn’t have to look over to know Kurusu was standing back in the doorway, watching him go through the bookcase. Goro didn’t stop, though he was listening. Kurusu was certainly gutsy to stand proudly and talk to him.

“I… take it you’re the ghost.”

Now Goro _did_ let his eyes flicker over. Kurusu looked a little nervous, but oddly amused as well.

“I see you bought my house knowing it was occupied.” Goro turned back to the books. He hummed finding a title he almost overlooked, and sent it back to his pile. “I hope you didn’t think it was a joke.”

“Yes and no,” Kurusu replied slowly. “Thought it might be fun if it were real, but I can’t say I believed it.”

Goro opened a book and thumbed through it. “You’re taking this well, then.”

“Fun, like I said.”

So far, Kurusu had been different from the people he’d met here. Sure Goro’d had conversations with other uninvited guests, but those were more like men screaming meaningless insults in his face while Goro knocked a plant onto the floor. Nothing quite like this.

Though it didn’t matter. Kurusu was just in the _Tough_ category. This wouldn’t last long, Goro was positive.

He decided the book he’d checked didn’t quite fit the emergency bill, so Goro let it glide back into place on the shelf. Kurusu’s general taste in literature was decent, though he’d probably more thoroughly need to flip through the _yes’s_ before he could be sure.

“So, do you want me to leave?”

Kurusu had continued watching Goro shuffle the books around. Maybe he needed some clarification, Goro guessed he could see how his organizing could seem inviting. “Of course I do. This is my house, after all. Don’t you realize you’re trespassing?”

“Well, you’re dead though,” Kurusu began blankly. “And I paid for this place. So who’s really the freeloader?”

That was snotty. “I don’t remember selling it to you. And what makes you think any sort of _law_ applies to the dead?”

“I’m not saying you can’t stay.”

Goro turned to face Kurusu fully. Was he really putting up a fight here? It was clear who this house belonged to.

“Have you already convinced yourself that you’re in a place to make demands?”

“Look, I’m not here to cause problems for you,” Kurusu said, almost like he was justifying himself. “I’m just hanging out. I get that money is fake and privately owned property doesn’t exist, but I gotta live somewhere. So let's just get along.”

Goro gave an icy glare. “And what if I tell you no?”

“Then sucks to be you, I guess.”

Kurusu shrugged and turned around. Goro didn’t follow, but he heard him march up the stairs.

Well that was annoying, not to mention unexpected. He didn’t think someone would come around who’d want to room with a ghost. He still half-thought Kurusu was going to scare himself out of it, but who knew how long that might take. Goro needed to take matters into his own hands.

If Kurusu was going to be stubborn, so would Goro. Bothering someone out of his house wouldn’t be hard. It’d certainly keep him entertained until he got his privacy back. Goro was sure he could think of ways to get Kurusu out within the week.

The shower started to run upstairs. Goro decided this could be his first chance. He waited for a minute or two, until he was sure Kurusu had entered. He thought about the water in the pipes. Slowly and surely, he slowed its path and let pressure build. Then, just for a second, he stopped the water entirely.

He released. He let the water go all at once, spouting into the shower hard and fast.

Goro heard a loud thump, accompanied by an “AHH?!”

Maybe it was a little petty, but he wasn’t known for being big hearted.

***

Goro wouldn’t say he _hated_ getting a little creative with ways to bother Kurusu.

He started with something typical. Willing pots and pans to slap against each other in the night not-so-coincidentally right below the master bedroom. Spoons tapping on the edges of bowls, whisks clanging against the ceiling, anything that might make noise.

Though Goro learned quickly Kurusu was a heavy sleeper. He walked downstairs the coming mornings looking refreshed and barely mentioning the noise. With a haughty huff one evening, Kurusu told him that he could fall asleep anytime, anywhere. Getting to his sleeping habits was like finding a needle in a haystack.

So the next morning, Goro tried a new angle. If in his sleep was a no-go, then he would bother him consciously. There Goro hovered, absently appearing to be leaning back on the wall, enjoying himself as he watched Kurusu search for his work badge.

“You're getting colder,” Goro commented as Kurusu searched behind a grandfather clock.

He scowled. “Speak for yourself.”

Goro rolled his eyes. Kurusu kept at his search, thoroughly entertaining Goro as he wandered around the house and muttered. It’d been a while since Goro could really cause any trouble, he forgot about the instant gratification it brought.

“Are you even trying? Extremely cold,” Goro chastised. Kurusu ignored him, laughably enough. “You know, I’m trying to help you here.”

“I think if you were being helpful you wouldn’t have hid my shit in the first place.” Kurusu scoffed out a laugh.

“You’re welcome to leave any time.”

Goro openly and maliciously giggled as he watched Kurusu stuff his hands underneath a couch, only to be met with a face full of dust. He coughed and stood up to wipe himself off, an uncharacteristic frown on his face. Goro was glad to see he was getting to him.

Kurusu started to check somewhere else, and Goro took on a voice sounding pitiful. “Oh, you’re giving up on the couch? And here I thought you were finally heeding my advice.”

He stared for a long second, and Goro only raised his eyebrows. Displeased, Kurusu turned back to the couch and got onto his knees, then reached his hand underneath again. More dust flew out as he searched, Kurusu coughing and wheezing the whole way.

Goro could see on his face when he found it. A momentary sense of relief, surely when his fingers touched the badge that was wedged deeply between the floorboards. He struggled pulling it out, and looked entirely unhappy when he stood up and found he’d worked well as a dust cloth.

After another patting down, Kurusu stormed out grumbling he was going to be late. Goro didn’t know where he worked, but he also didn’t care, and he wondered if getting him fired might be another way of kicking him from his house.

Though, the most he could do from home was hide his badge or tear apart anything he might bring for at-home work. He’d wait on that, maybe as a last resort, because getting him fired wasn’t actually his endgame goal.

Goro decided he’d float upstairs into the master bedroom, and take his painstakingly slow time to cause trouble in a different way. Creaking open a dresser, he searched for any spare sock he could find and began to give them their own hiding spots around the house.

He didn’t realize how quickly time would fly while being a pest.

_***_

Goro wouldn't consider himself a one-trick pony. Hiding things and making some noise was barely dipping into his abilities.

As he’d learned from the first day of his time undead, Goro was cold. Freezing enough that if he lingered somewhere for a long while, frost might begin to crystalize under him. It’d always melt away in the climate of his house, but it was a handy circumstance.

What Goro had gotten into the habit of doing was wandering to Kurusu’s warm dinners and letting his palms drift through them. In seconds the heat would be sucked out, giving him lukewarm at best and pebble ice at worst meals.

Though, and this _was_ impressive to Goro, Kurusu would groan and scowl at him but still eat every bite. Occasionally he’d reheat it or eat his meal walking around the house (where sometimes Goro would follow him, almost like a game of tag), but most nights he’d just eat through the cold.

Tonight Kurusu made a salad. Annoyingly enough, not a meal that was any worse when cold. Maybe if Goro was _really_ able to have at it, but usually Kurusu would snatch his meal away before any ice would begin to form.

But again, Goro had more than one tactic up his sleeve.

“You know, I died in here,” Goro said, waiting until just before Kurusu took his first bite. He successfully stopped him in his tracks, letting Goro grin and go on. “In fact, I was poisoned in the very seat you’re sitting in. How interesting.”

Kurusu raised his eyebrows, fork still in hand. “Are you trying to imply you poisoned me?”

“I could be.”

They were staring at each other right in the eyes. Goro smiled sweetly. Obviously he hadn’t poisoned anything. There was hardly a point where he could’ve, with how Kurusu watched over his meals when Goro was around. But it was easy and even a little fun to instill some paranoia.

With a short shrug, Kurusu resumed his bite. It was amusing to watch him continue, and through his next he made a claim.

“You don’t wanna kill me.”

That was some confidence. “I would if it would get you out of my house.”

“No,” Kurusu argued. “You could’ve killed me weeks ago. You could kill me right now if you wanted to, without playing a little guessing game.” Kurusu swallowed, and twiddled his fork in his food. “You seem like you're a fan of games, ghosty. I’m willing to bet you’re enjoying this.”

Goro made sure to appear unphased. Though, it did pique his interest that he kept eating on such dodgy logic. “Would you really consider it a win that I’m enjoying bothering you with every spare moment of my day?”

Kurusu stabbed his food with his fork, and pointed it at Goro.

“I’m not homeless and I'm not dead, so. Absolutely.”

***

Goro owned a piano that sat in his parlor.

It wasn’t actually his. It’d belonged to his father, who had gotten it from a very fancy and well established instrument salesman. Apparently it was extremely old, and as a child Goro hadn’t even been allowed near it. The piano was never played, it had just sat on display as a flaunting of excessive wealth.

Goro was meandering nearby, floating on his back high in the air, while Kurusu did something dull in the other room. As per typical, Goro was bored out of his skull. Staring at the dusty thing made Goro want to ruin it a little. Though, he thought that just tearing it apart wouldn’t give him much satisfaction in the long run.

Which gave him a better idea of something to ruin.

“Kurusu,” Goro called, not even sparing the other room a glance as he drifted. “Indulge me—do you play any instruments?”

When Kurusu walked in, Goro peeked over from the corner of his eye. Kurusu took a moment to scan for Goro, and then looked around the room himself.

“You talking _anything_ , or the piano specifically?”

“I might have a rusty trumpet in the attic, if you’re looking to get tetanus.”

Kurusu approached the piano gingerly, lockjaw obviously not bringing much appeal. “I guess I know a couple notes.” He lifted the key cover and tapped one. “Like, I'm sixty percent sure this is center c.”

Goro raised an eyebrow. “Do you mean middle c?”

“Gotcha. Testing you,” Kurusu said with a smile. He pressed another note and held it for a moment. “Why do you ask? About if I play, I mean.”

“I thought you might perform something. It’s not the most entertaining existence I have.”

Kurusu didn’t reply. Whether it was from surprise or plain unwillingness, Goro didn’t care. He went on, trying to sound more convincing.

“Maybe I would’ve let you take a shower without interruptions if you’d satisfied me.”

“So it _was_ you,” Kurusu jabbed. He folded his arms and thought to himself, like that was a game changer.

Goro scoffed. “Obviously it was me. You would expect anything less than perfection in my home?”

Kurusu scooted out the piano bench and sat down, sitting sideways on the bench with his legs spread apart. “I wouldn’t have thought you cared about your plumbing, since you don’t exactly use it anymore.”

“So I’m not allowed to have material interests while I’m dead?”

“I stand corrected.”

Kurusu turned towards the piano fully, swinging his leg over the bench to sit properly. Goro adjusted himself in the air and then floated down. He was interested to see what Kurusu would try.

He flexed his fingers, then paused. “Were you spying on me?”

Goro glared down at him. He shouldn’t flatter himself. “I don’t have an interest in that sort of thing.”

“Aw. I’m not material enough for you?” Kurusu pouted with false sadness. It wasn’t long before he laughed to himself. “I’m taken anyway.”

“I don’t care.” Goro was just glad he hadn’t brought his partner into the house with him.

Neither of them moved for a moment. Goro gestured at the piano, trying to communicate to _get a move on, please._ There wasn’t an ounce of Goro that cared for the instrument, but momentary enjoyment was at least momentary.

Kurusu peered down at the notes, eyes big through his glasses. “I doubt I can give you something very impressive.”

Without a word in reply, Goro crossed his legs and waved his hand again for Kurusu to try something, anything. He had days where distractions were all that kept him sane, and this was turning into one. Give him something to listen to, or something to laugh at.

When Kurusu finally readied himself, Goro couldn’t help but click his tongue.

“What?”

He folded his arms. “I’m impressed, Kurusu. You’re already doing a shitty job without even pressing a note.” He glared at Kurusu’s slouched back and tightly pressed arms. “You’re sitting all wrong. Even an amature should know better.”

Kurusu huffed and ignored him, but did at least straighten his back. But when he set his fingers on the keys to try out a note, Goro laughed something mean.

“Oh my god, what.”

“You obviously don’t know what you’re doing.” Goro shook his head. “Maybe it was useless after all.”

Maybe that ticked something off in Kurusu, Goro didn’t know. Maybe he just didn’t like to be told what he could and couldn’t do—Goro could sympathize. He also didn’t like being told who could and couldn’t live in his house.

Kurusu leaned back on the bench, the latter creaking as he shifted his weight. There was contempt hanging off his lips—he was getting annoyed, plain and simple.“If you’re so smart, why don’t you sit down and play it yourself.”

“I’m dead _,_ Kurusu. If the transparency didn’t give me away, why don’t I put my hand through your ribs and see if it tickles.” He pointedly didn’t, but let Kurusu shiver all on his own. “Besides, I don’t know how. But even _I’m_ aware there’s a strict posture to follow.”

“I already told you I barely knew how to play.”

“It’s common sense to think you’d at least straighten your back _._ I don’t even remember learning. I think you’re misunderstanding how obvious this is.”

Kurusu didn’t take the insults well, going by the look he was sporting. Goro hadn’t seen this much emotion on his face before. “You’re the one who asked me to play. Don’t act so high and mighty. If you want a song, learn it yourself. Don’t ask me to entertain you.”

“What part of _dead_ do you not understand?” By no means was Goro about to start yelling, but he’d made himself clear. “Or are you suggesting I should will the keys to play a song that I don’t understand the basics of?”

“You seem to do just fine willing my shirts into the backyard.”

“If you don’t like it, then get out of my house.”

Kurusu laughed now, something snarky. “You say that, as if you didn’t just ask me to amuse you for a while. If you don’t _like_ how I play, then buzz off.” He stood up from the bench. “I’m here. Live with it or die with it.”

He tried to make an exit, but Goro wasn’t finished with their argument. “I could say the same shit to you,” he shot back with a sneer. “Obviously something isn’t clicking. Get it through your head that you’re nothing but a pest to me living in my home. Don’t assume that it’s _you_ I want here. A cockroach may be fun to crush, but it’s only a cockroach _.”_

Kurusu balled up his fists. “You are so—”

“ _What?_ I am so _what?_ Terrible? Annoying? The bane of your existence? This isn’t some get-along, or a meet cute. You are living in my house, and here I ask for one thing and you turn it into some witty debate—”

“ _I_ turned it into a debate, you fucking say,” Kurusu interrupted, face splotching red. “When you wouldn’t stop with your condescending attitude and all your snarky remarks. You’re the one turning this into something it’s not.”

Goro knew his expression turned sour. “This has always been about the same damn thing _._ You are deluding yourself into thinking there is anything I want more than you out of my house. As if that isn’t always what I want from you. Maybe I’m callous—I’m trying to be.”

Kurusu scrunched up his nose. “It’s not like I have somewhere else I can go.”

“Neither do I. But I’d argue I’m a little more stuck than you are.”

It was quiet for a moment. Kurusu took a deep breath, maybe trying to clear his mind. Goro thought their attempt at an argument was finished, but of course Kurusu wanted to have the final word.

“I can’t just—I can’t just go. I get it, I do I get it, this is your house. But it’s not like I can get my money back. Or backtrack and go where I used to be. Look, I’m staying, let’s just make this pleasant.”

Goro looked down on him.

“You could always try a homeless shelter.”

It hadn’t been obvious that Kurusu didn’t completely calm down in their silence. That he’d been holding on to the last grasp of civility he could behind a blank face. His jaw tightened and he bit down hard on his lip.

“You _know,”_ Kurusu began with bitterness. “I don’t remember having a bone to pick with you. It’s not like I scandalized you, and I haven’t done anything to make this less tolerable than it already is. You don’t have to like me. You don’t even have to look at me. I get that you’re dead and you’re angry, but are you really so fucking low to use that as an _excuse_?” He took a step towards Goro. “You don’t get to look at me and assume I’m infinitely better off. This is a two way street. Neither of us are exactly living the way we want to. So would you just fuck— _off_.”

He waved his hand through Goro’s torso at the last word. Goro obviously didn’t feel it, but sliced his top and bottom halves and left a wispy trail. They connected back quickly, and without an ounce of regret on Kurusu’s face Goro felt his quiet anger reach a high.

In seconds Kurusu turned around and marched upstairs. Goro seethed in his parlor, thinking to himself how that argument was hardly even relevant, and he couldn’t care less about what sort of passions a living human has. He was allowed to be spiteful, and Kurusu’s little speech didn’t do anything about that.

Not to mention, while he didn’t think there were any rules on _ghost etiquette_ , he wasn’t thrilled to have been chopped through. Like some kind of gotcha. He hoped Kurusu’s hand had felt numb from the motion.

He floated angrily around, not really wanting to continue the conversation but absolutely pissed at the way it ended, until he heard the shower running upstairs.

Miffed but ever patient, Goro waited. He let water build for longer than usual, and willed more to come closer and closer to the pipe in the shower. Hot or cold, it didn’t matter, he concentrated as hard as he could.

He blasted the water clean out of the nozzle and drain with force like never before.

“FUCK YOU!”

***

Goro was roaming around his house, as he did during evenings where his restlessness wouldn’t let him settle down and focus. Kurusu was out, Goro didn’t know where, but he didn’t care either.

He couldn’t even get himself to figure out a way to give Kurusu a scare when he inevitably returned. This was a night he was sure his bones were rolling in his grave, and all he could do to soothe his mind was wander.

From the kitchen, Goro heard the front door open. Presumably Kurusu (though even if it wasn’t, a robber would find themselves in a worse place than they started if _this_ house was their target) stomped inside and all but slammed the door behind him. Goro heard him continue his tantrum as he stormed up the stairs, straight into the master bedroom.

That was interesting. If the stomping and slamming wasn’t a dead giveaway, Kurusu always made it a point to give an obnoxious hello once he returned. Perhaps he was angry—something must’ve happened while he was out and about.

Goro floated into the main entryway. By the looks of it, Kurusu hadn’t even removed his shoes—mud and water from outside had tracked in and down the hall, fading just before the stairs. How disgusting, Goro thought. Bringing in filth that he had to _look_ at. If it stained or damaged the wood, Goro wouldn’t be able to solve that with a bit of ghostly influence.

He drifted up the stairs, checking to see if there was any more dirt that’d found its way into his home. Stopping at the door of the master bedroom, he tried to snoop and listen to see if he could hear anything inside.

Without the ability to press his ear against the door, Goro decided he might as well just poke his head in. Perhaps he could get an explanation, or maybe Kurusu might get fed up enough with Goro to finally leave.

He passed through the door just enough so the top half of his torso was visible. It wasn’t hard to spot Kurusu, but he was worse than Goro had imagined.

Sitting with a blanket around his shoulders, Kurusu had his head stuffed into a pillow and was breathing hard. It didn’t seem quite like crying, but he was obviously upset. He looked very small in the corner of the bed.

There was no sign that he’d noticed Goro come in, so Goro decided to float a book up and let it drop down with a thud. Kurusu jumped at the sound without taking his head from the pillow, but then relaxed, surely knowing that was Goro’s way of making an entrance. It wasn’t the first time he’d done this, after all.

Kurusu adjusted his head so his face wasn’t plastered into the pillow, but he still wasn’t looking towards Goro. He stared at the wall, his cheek now pressed deeply into the plush.

“...What do you want.”

Goro floated in fully, glancing around to check for any other signs of his unkemptness. “You tracked mud in. That’s bad for the floorboards.”

“I’ll clean it up later,” Kurusu mumbled.

Goro didn’t leave at that. He came a little further into the room, shortly glaring daggers at Kurusu’s dirty shoes in the corner.

“What do you _want,”_ Kurusu asked again, sounding more upset than Goro expected. When he didn’t reply, he sighed sharply. “Do you actually give a shit, or are you just here to torment me for a while.”

Goro paused, and looked down at the bed. He may as well call it what it was.

“Let’s leave it at curiosity.”

The answer didn’t impress Kurusu. He gripped the pillow harder and stuffed his face back into the front. They sat in silence for a long while, and when Kurusu finally spoke it was still muffled.

“My girlfriend cheated on me,” he said. He lifted his head straightforwardly, and stared at Goro. His eyes looked puffy and his face was red, and it was becoming clear that this was much larger than Goro had thought. “So I’m not really fucking feeling it right now, Akechi.”

Goro frowned. He didn’t feel guilty for asking. If anything, he felt bad because there was a grown man in front of him who was moments away from breaking out into sobs. Of course you’d feel bad if you saw that; Goro had an ounce of empathy left at least. Not to mention, this wasn’t a fantastic circumstance Kurusu had found himself in.

Kurusu looked away again, tilting his head back and leaning on the bed frame. He took a deep breath and squeezed his eyes shut.

Goro felt like he should say something. The silence was growing longer, and the only other choice would be to leave.

“How long were… you together?” Goro asked, not sure if he was trying to comfort him or trying to rub salt in the wound.

When Kurusu opened his eyes, he glared over at Goro. But whatever he saw didn’t quite offend him, so he glanced away and up to the ceiling.

“...Ten months.”

A decent while, then. And what a shitty fallout.

Goro tried to float a bit closer to him. “How did you find out?”

“She just… she just told me. Out of nowhere.” His face dipped into a deep frown. “She didn’t even sound guilty. Said that to me, and then said that she wanted to break up.”

So it wasn’t like he caught her in the act. Still heartbreaking, Goro was sure, and surely it was painful in that she wasn’t remorseful. He didn’t want to imagine how Kurusu felt.

There was something surprising in how Goro didn’t like to see Kurusu like this. Upset and vulnerable, and in a perfect position for him to really grind his gears in a permanent way. But Goro wasn’t a machine, far from it, and even he could have some sympathy. He’d forgotten what it felt like, in fact.

“At least you know now that she wasn’t worth it in the first place,” Goro said.

“Waste of my time,” Kurusu agreed.

There was still clearly a sob in Kurusu’s throat. It wasn’t like a little resentment would cure him of the pain, after all. Goro understood the sentiment completely.

Not exactly sure why but excusing it to habit, Goro let himself finally float over to the bed, and then sat down as well he could manage. It was a gesture at least, not that he’d know if Kurusu appreciated it in the state he was in.

“My best advice would be for you to stay angry,” Goro tried, not expecting any sort of reaction. “Though that depends on if you’re looking for advice in the first place.”

Kurusu pulled his knees further into the back of the pillow. He let the pause hang for a while.

“I don’t know.”

“I doubt I offer you any sort of reassurance in my presence, but I’m not soulless.”

Somehow, Kursu grinned. “Obviously.”

It didn’t seem quite right to reply, so Goro left it at the terrible joke. At least Kurusu wasn’t so put out that he couldn’t laugh at Goro’s expense.

Goro waited for Kurusu to decide what he should do. If he asked him to leave, then that would be that. Perhaps it would be good to know that he didn’t need comfort from the ghost haunting his house—a decent mental state, Goro would assume.

Though, Kurusu seemed to be a fool more often than not. “What do you mean by staying angry?”

Goro hummed, and rested his hand on his chin. Anger wasn’t something that Goro could describe, exactly, but he supposed there was a way to word it.

“Well, I’ll assume for your sake that you’re feeling a lot right now. And good. Feel that way, as much as you want. You, who's so intent on _emotion_ , as you’ve stressed to me,” he said. “It’ll fade, as all things do, but you can control what it fades from, and what it fades into. Let it form into injustice, and fade into whatever brand of fury you’d like. And keep it that way. Don’t let yourself wallow in self-pity. You were wronged. Let it boil over.”

Kurusu stared at him wide-eyed. It fell into a look of almost concern, one Goro didn’t exactly appreciate. Kurusu tilted his head. “I didn’t expect that.” And then, after a moment filled by Goro scoffing, “Sounds like you’ve got experience?”

“In being angry?” Kurusu nodded him on. Goro sighed. “It’s how I lived. Perhaps you’ve met an expert.”

With raised eyebrows, Kurusu loosened his death grip on the pillow. “You’ve got some persistence. Was that even healthy?”

“Probably not. I think it helped kill me, in all honesty.”

“So then, does that mean you have a deathwish for me?”

“Didn’t you already come to a conclusion about that?”

Kurusu smiled. It was small, and there was still obvious hurt, but it was enough that Goro thought he’d succeeded in helping him feel partially better. Which was still weird that he wanted to, but it had happened and now he would deal with it. Maybe there was a little bit of something about Kurusu, after all.

In a much more comfortable movement than before, Kurusu cuddled himself into the bed. “So, I still think I need to cry this out and I’d rather that be a me, myself, and I moment,” he said, pulling the blanket farther around him. “But I’ll give fatal anger a shot too.”

“Maybe I’ll quiz you, to make sure you get it right.”

He got a sad kind of chuckle in reply. “In exchange for what, a padded coffin?”

Goro let himself grin. It came to him in the moment that his restless evening had come to a halting end. Whatever painful hole had been trying to dig itself into Goro, it’d given up entirely.

It might’ve been because of Kurusu. Goro had forgotten what it was like to have a normal conversation. Or what it was like to help someone.

Kurusu gulped something down and sniffed. His fit was surely going to come on, so Goro prepared to excuse himself.

“Akechi,” Kurusu said as Goro floated back. “...Thanks. For checking on me.”

Goro sighed. “You’re more than welcome to get angry at me as well, you know.”

“Don’t worry too much about that. You drive me up the wall.” Kurusu looked down at his bedsheets. “But I... I’ve gotten a lot of wrong ideas about people, recently. Usually I’m better about that.”

Goro convinced himself he was talking about his now ex-girlfriend. It was a dodgy conclusion, though.

“I think I know what you mean.”

***

Kurusu had been keeping to himself for the next short while. Understandable, Goro thought, however not quite entertaining. He hadn’t realized how well Kurusu did to keep him occupied. But the first morning Kurusu cooked himself breakfast in who knew how long (Goro didn’t keep track of days passing), he finally seemed to be feeling better.

“That smells good,” Goro commented, watching him toss eggs in a pan. “It’s been some time since I’ve seen you cook.”

Kurusu looked positively baffled. “You can _smell?”_

Goro tilted his head. “I can see and hear too. Why is this a surprise?”

With a frown like Goro had made a good point, Kurusu considered that. He flipped his breakfast onto a plate and sat down.

“What about feeling and tasting, then?”

Goro considered elaborating, but he was feeling nice today. “You probably don’t want to find out while you’re eating.”

Kurusu seemed pretty satisfied with that, and he took his first bite. Goro didn’t think that talking about a decaying corpse and what his tongue tasted in his grave would be much appealing. He wasn’t worried about Kurusu per se, but it’d be annoying if he got sick, or something, and threw up on his nice table.

Kurusu paused mid bite. “Do you get hungry?”

“No,” Goro responded without much thought. “I don’t think there's reason I would. I’m not expending any energy after all.”

“Okay—do you _miss_ eating?”

Goro raised his eyebrows. “You’re awfully curious this morning.” Kurusu just kept on with his meal, waiting for a reply. “I don’t. Food was hardly something that I had a particular attachment to. It’s also what killed me, remember?”

Kurusu hummed. Continually impressed at the strength of Kurusu’s stomach, he kept eating. No real reason to worry about poison in his meals, Goro supposed.

Though Goro had thought the same thing.

“Can I ask something that might sound a little insensitive?” Kurusu pressed his lips together.

“I’m interested in why you have so many questions today.” Goro let himself float down to the chair that always belonged to his father. “So, sure.”

Kurusu poked around at his food. “You would be the type to think getting to know someone is some kind of mystery to be solved.” Goro rolled his eyes, and waited for him to go on. Kurusu sighed.

“Do you miss living? In the way that humans do?”

Goro couldn’t call himself surprised. He’d known the question would come up eventually. It was less of a sensitive topic than Kurusu seemed to think.

“No,” Goro said. “Not at all. My life wasn’t worth much, not to myself nor anyone else.”

Kurusu didn’t seem happy about that, and Goro wondered why. Wouldn’t it be better that he didn’t miss it? It made his pain much less agonizing.

“I died seven years ago. I was probably a little younger than you are. We’re fairly close to the same age now, actually.” He saw Kurusu’s scowl deepen. “Does it upset you that I never had an attachment to life? There wasn’t anything for me to attach _to_. Don’t be offended that we have different values.”

Kurusu’s jaw tightened. “I’m not offended. It’s just a shitty circumstance.”

“So you’re upset for my sake? Don’t be. I’m more than angry enough for the both of us.”

For a long moment, Kurusu held a stare with Goro. He let out a sigh, and then resumed his meal.

“Beyond getting poisoned,” Kurusu began, scooping up almost the last of his breakfast. “How _did_ you die?”

He looked a little concerned. Goro wasn’t sure if the answer would ease his thoughts. Not that it mattered. Goro wasn’t here to monitor Kurusu’s moods.

“I was poisoned by my father one evening while we were eating dinner. He hated me, and I hated him. Though, I don’t know why he picked the method.” Goro glared down at the plate in front of Kurusu. “Maybe he wanted to see the life fade from my eyes. I’m sure he would’ve enjoyed that.”

“That’s—”

“I stabbed him in the throat before it killed me,” he continued. “I picked up my knife and tore straight through his windpipe. And then I fell back onto the row of cupboards behind you, and I died.”

For a moment, all Kurusu did was stare. When he glanced down at his own dinnerware suspiciously, Goro shook his head.

“Don’t worry. I’m sure it’s in the hands of the police.” He floated Kurusu’s knife up in the air. “And besides, it was a steak knife. We had tough meat for dinner that night. Not that it tasted like much.”

Kurusu watched as Goro twirled the knife around above their heads. He didn’t seem nervous, but he didn’t look happy.

“I’m sorry you died that way,” he said. “Even if you hated life, that’s a fucked up way to go.”

Goro sighed, and then dropped the knife down in the sink behind them.

“It was a long time ago.”

***

It was a rainy day.

Kurusu had been looking outside the window with a nonchalant gloom, and he’d commented that today would be an indoors one. Goro snarked back that he usually spent all his time indoors anyway.

Goro had grown more fond of the rain in his death. It’d meant a day that his father wouldn’t be out of the house while he was alive, but now that he’d died it was a sound he couldn’t get enough of. The white noise of the droplets hitting the house helped him focus, letting him drift off into thoughts that weren’t inherently harrowing.

At first, Kurusu seemed as if he didn’t like the rain. But he happily settled onto a couch and wrapped himself into a blanket, making Goro think his little charade earlier had been for the dramatics of it all. He was odd, no matter how Goro looked at him.

“Do you have any book recommendations?” Kurusu asked, lounging about with a particular attitude. “I wanna try something new.”

Goro thought for a moment and came up with an idea. He floated up through the ceiling to the attic, and found hidden on top of the beams a favorite of his. Goro took it along with him as he drifted back down the long way, thinking to himself that maybe he’d read it again after he finished his current novel.

He sent it over to Kurusu, who took it gingerly out of the air. “I thought for a second you were just leaving and ignoring me.” He flipped the book around, and then flipped it again. “It’s thin, huh?”

“It’s a play,” Goro elaborated. Kurusu nodded in understanding.

Goro had always liked plays. They were something nice to settle into, though he couldn’t put his finger on why. Perhaps it was the familiar feeling of dread they left him with. The worlds felt confined and singular, a story that existed once and nowhere else. Comforting in a sense that it was typical, but also why he could never work himself up to attending one. The unease followed him far too closely.

Kurusu opened up and began reading intently. Goro had read it tens of times by now. Part of him wanted to let Kurusu enjoy it and become absolutely enthralled with the story, but another undying corner of his mind wanted to bother Kurusu until its final breath.

So just every so often would Goro turn a page early for Kurusu. Make him flip and re-flip until gifting momentary spaces of rest. Only on non-important sections, but it was entertaining nonetheless to see him break from concentration.

It wasn’t long before Kurusu found his own ways of retaliation. He began reading out loud with a raised voice and doing an utterly terrible job, surely trying to sound as annoying as possible. Goro had never seen the play acted out, but he was sure that a child’s performance would sell better than Kurusu’s.

Their back and forth went on until the play's final line, and somehow it was the most fun Goro’d had in weeks.

***

At a terribly timed instance only in that Kurusu was sitting in the room, did Goro’s left hand come tumbling off his wrist.

Goro had enough control to prevent it from swaying underneath the floorboards, but a levitating hand near Kurusu’s feet wasn’t ideal either. Without a second thought, Kurusu perched himself onto his chair with wide eyes and disgust.

“Hey, uh, hey,” Kurusu said, not taking his eyes off Goro’s hand. “What the fuck is this.”

Goro sighed and tried to focus a little more. His hand looped its way back onto its proper place, mending itself whole again. He clenched into a fist for a moment, and then released.

“That happens on occasion. Don’t worry too much.”

Kurusu slowly inched himself down from the chair. “What was… Why?”

Goro wiggled his fingers in front of Kurusu in an attempt to comfort him with the fact that yes, Goro was whole again, and he could calm down. “It isn’t uncommon for me. It’s because of how my body works as I am now, at least as far as I know.”

Kurusu looked at him as if asking to elaborate. Goro didn’t mind.

“Beyond reasonable doubt, I’m fairly certain that I’m connected to my physical body in some way. Obviously I don’t look like this in my grave, but I assume it has something to do with how this is decently how I looked as I died.” Goro paused, and tried to think of a good way to phrase what he went through. “It’s hard to… hold myself together, some days. Or keep my corpse away from my form, perhaps. Though it isn’t like it’ll remove me from all existence if I let it take over from time to time. It’s only a corpse, after all—recreating myself is a simple fix.”

Kurusu furrowed his eyebrows. “If it’s connected, can you… _feel_ that?”

Before Goro could answer, there was a knock at the door. It startled Kurusu. Goro took the chance to float his way out of an answer.

“You should answer that,” he said, as he drifted up into the ceiling.

Goro did feel reluctant to elaborate, because he knew Kurusu wouldn’t like the short of it. There wasn’t a reason for Kurusu to worry over Goro, and he’d like to keep it that way.

At the door was a salesman, by the sounds of the conversation. Goro wondered if Kurusu had taken down his no soliciting sign.

***

Goro hadn’t slept in a long time. Restless didn’t begin to describe him. It was an ache that followed him, a toll ringing through his skull. Goro never realized how painful it would be, or how constant.

He would wait for Kurusu to fall asleep, heavy sleeper as he proved himself to be, before Goro haunted the floors with the ghastly wail that helped earn the house its reputation. A cry he couldn’t contain, and a hopeless weep that would burst until there was nothing of him left.

Goro remembered how often he took sleep for granted—if he didn’t miss _life,_ he sure as hell missed _rest._ If he could doze away for one second, he wondered how much damage it would heal. How much less of himself there would be.

When the morning came, Goro would never feel better. It felt like he should, but he didn’t. But if not for his own sake but his unrelenting roommate, Goro would shape himself together without a voice to sound hoarse.

***

“Hey,” Kurusu began, leaning onto a bookcase. “Do you think, legally, I could add you to the lease?”

Goro glanced up. He’d been idly trying to get a more precise grip on his movement abilities, scooting candles around the top of his fireplace. It was busywork, but it kept him focused.

“No,” he said. “I’m dead. Laws don’t apply.”

“Well, you’re _un_ dead. We could campaign this.”

Goro fully gave Kurusu his attention, since he obviously wanted it. He floated over to a couch opposite Kurusu and sat down. “What, so I could legally kick you out of my house?”

“ _Our_ house,” Kurusu corrected. He had that same almost-grin he always wore. Goro pointedly ignored him, so he continued. “Don’t you want to, like, vote?”

There was hardly anything to do but groan. “No. Politics for the living don’t mean anything to me.”

“I’d wanna vote.”

“Yes, well, you do seem to love sticking your nose into things that don’t concern you.”

Kurusu didn’t reply, and for a joyous moment Goro thought maybe he was done with the meaningless debate. But there came a twinkle in his eye, and Goro steeled himself.

“What if you and your ghost buddies, like, unionized.”

He wondered if it hadn’t been clear to Kurusu that he _couldn’t leave the house_ and _couldn’t use a phone._ “I don’t have ‘ghost buddies.' I’m not even sure there are other entities like me.”

“Maybe you should make some.”

“Ah,” Goro began, seeing a teasing chance. “ _Make_ some?”

For a moment, Kurusu registered. And upon understanding, he let out a laugh that was a smidge more nervous than it was happy. “Would you really want to kill me and then be stuck with me for all eternity?”

Goro sighed. “Unfortunately, I can’t evict you if you’re dead.”

“That’s the spirit.” Kurusu pointed a pair of finger guns at Goro, and then shuffled out of the room. But hardly a few moments later, he let out a single and haughty, “HA.”

Kurusu had energy today, that was at least for certain.

***

There were some nights where Goro would wander to the brink of the backyard, just as far as he could go. He’d push every limit, reaching out until he couldn’t move another inch. In the darkness, Goro was almost invisible. His presence didn’t come with a glow or a radiance—so he knew no wandering eyes would look out and see him linger, and linger, until he pushed too hard and something broke.

Goro’s ghostly body tore apart at the seams. Falling from the joints, he would collapse away and tumble down onto the grass. It’d start with his fingers, as he always reached forward while trying to float beyond the boundaries of his home, and then in a chain of breaks would his forearms, and shoulders, his knees, and his head, all disassemble and lose their forms.

And then, without the need to focus on keeping a form, Goro would attempt some semblance of relaxation. He’d let that feeling of his corpse overwhelm him, as the sting and hurt from his shattered body begged him to reassemble.

He wouldn’t. Goro couldn’t rest, but this was at least inactive. Some pathetic attempt at easing tension with his body sprawled out onto the lawn, not thinking about anything else but his agony.

Goro didn’t know where his consciousness came from. He’d be scattered around, mind in each piece of himself and too distant to form a thought. If he paid attention, some nights he’d find himself dwelling in his spine, crawling up each vertebrae and pinching every nerve.

And he’d stay there, up until the sun began to creep up from behind the mountains. With dread, he’d slowly let his hands crawl back to him and feel his head reattach itself. As the black in the sky faded to violet blues, he would string himself back into a person again.

***

“I need to talk to you.”

Goro raised his eyebrows. Kurusu had just gotten home from work looking tired and bored, and was hardly three steps into the house leading with that confrontation. Goro decided to humor him. Not only did Kurusu look serious enough to commit murder, but there was an ache in Goro’s back that wasn’t letting up that day. Maybe Kurusu could distract him into forgetting.

They ended up in the living room, Kurusu taking a seat while Goro hovered near his clock. It was quiet while Kurusu tried to find his words, and it wasn’t like Goro had anything better to do. Though he looked like he was preparing himself for a speech. It was hard not to feel a growing and unpleasant nerve begin to well up.

“Look, I get… there are things that are your business,” Kurusu began, instilling that nerve to expand into an entirely new feeling of distaste. This conversation was going to be about _him;_ he silently waited for elaboration on whatever behavior Kurusu was finding unappealing this time.

“There’s just something that’s been bothering me.” Goro almost laughed, since it seemed like he was dead on that it was a behavioral issue. “And I mean, it’s bothering me for a lot of reasons, but a big one is that you seem like you’re trying to keep it a secret. And like, you can have secrets, but… Maybe the better way of saying this is I found out, and now I think there's something that has to be done.”

Goro narrowed his eyes, partially in search of what particular secret Kurusu could’ve possibly found out. “And that being?”

There was a clear unwillingness. Perhaps he was nervous he might start a fight. Depending on what he brought up, Goro might. Though he really doubted that he’d discovered anything too drastic.

“I’d been convincing myself it was the wind, or something, or maybe I thought it was just a one time thing. Buts it’s—It’s you. I don’t even have to ask I— _saw you_ , last night, and I know that you’re… more miserable than you’re telling me.”

With a frown, Goro realized he was referencing when he’d go onto the lawn during the nighttime. He guessed that was a secret since he wasn’t happy Kurusu knew, but it probably wasn’t for the reasons he thought. Goro wasn’t embarrassed, after all.

“What about it?” he asked. “Do I seem like the type to wallow in my own misery enough to search for pity?”

“This isn’t about me pitying you.” Kurusu looked even more unhappy than before—surely not pleased that Goro didn’t care about the pain. “I’m not going to sit here and pretend that I don’t know anything. I just want to help you, and I’m asking if you’ll let me.”

“No. I don’t need help,” Goro said flatly. There wasn’t even anything to help _with._ Goro didn’t know much about his situation, but he knew that it was about himself and no one else.

Kurusu sighed. “See, I thought you might say that.” He bit the inside of his cheek. “What are you even doing here, Akechi?”

“As in why am I a ghost?” Kurusu nodded. “I don’t know.”

It wasn’t a lie. He didn’t know; it wasn’t like he’d been given a booklet. Goro had died, and then suddenly he was seeping out of his dead body and watching his father suffocate on the floor. It had taken him a short while to realize what he was, and then came the aftermath of coming to terms with it. He hadn’t done this voluntarily.

His answer made Kurusu lean farther down into his chair in a huff. It didn’t seem like he believed him.

“I really don’t. Do you think if I knew why I was, I’d have stayed and been ‘miserable’ for seven years? As if I wouldn’t have taken the chance to end it all?”

In what felt like a shock, Kurusu scowled at him. “If you’re feeling that bad, then let me help you. From the sounds of it, you…” He trailed off for a moment, like he was remembering. “You seem like you’re barely hanging on.”

“It doesn’t matter how well I’m adapting. If I can’t leave, I can’t leave. It’s a waste of time,” Goro said. This wasn’t something Kurusu needed to dive into. Goro’s problems were his own.

“You can’t want this, Akechi. I get that you’re stubborn and you want to do everything yourself but—”

“Don’t act like you know what I want,” Goro interrupted with a snap, his mood turning sour. Kurusu went wide eyed. Neither of them wanted this to be a fight, but Goro had made his decision already. “Take a walk, Kurusu. You’re not going to get anywhere with this.”

Kurusu pressed his lips together tightly, and inhaled. Without another word, he left, and Goro floated alone in his living room.

The way that Goro’s time managed itself verses how Kurusu’s did was different. It wasn’t a hard concept to understand, and it wasn’t difficult to see that Goro’s feelings on the matter were steadfast. No matter how much Kurusu wanted to help, Goro wouldn’t take it.

***

Tense wasn’t entirely the right word for Goro and Kurusu’s moods. It could be as simple as an air of doom and gloom. Their discussion couldn’t really have been classified as an argument, but without a resolution there was an agitation circling the house.

It wasn’t very pleasant. But there was nothing to apologize for, despite neither of them enjoying the situation. There were things that Kurusu wanted to understand, and things that Goro didn’t want to elaborate on. And the overlap was growing too large.

It hadn’t helped when Kurusu wandered into a room where Goro’s head had rolled off his neck and sat midway through the floor. It’d been a lazy mistake, and Goro hadn’t even noticed Kurusu in the room until he heard him run out.

It only felt worse, too, when one early morning Akira had come outside after Goro weeped his heart out. He only stared at him, and Goro didn’t know if he’d planned to offer any comfort, so Goro floated up and away from Kurusu before he could get a word out.

But it was becoming tiring. The way Kurusu worried, how Goro couldn’t start a conversation without sinking a rock of guilt into Kurusu’s gut—and how he still wouldn’t do anything about it.

They weren’t talking as much anymore.

***

Goro was reading across from his bookcase when Kurusu entered and stood in the center of the room. Goro didn’t quite give him the time of day, but was paying attention to whatever he was planning.

Kurusu took a deep breath. “Do you have any regrets?”

Every so often, Kurusu would ask some question or other that was a blatant attempt at figuring out Goro’s circumstances. Goro thought it only made matters worse when it was brought up at all, but Kurusu would always try and push for an answer.

“No.” He said it without room for what if’s or maybe’s. And he meant it, too. Goro had already told Kurusu his life wasn’t all that, and the one man he held the most contempt for was dead by his own hand. What more could Goro have asked for?

Often after the first question came others. All ones that Goro would dodge until Kurusu slumped and walked away, or Goro simply disappeared from the conversation; it was better for them both that way, at least until Kurusu gave up. But this time Kurusu took a shaky breath, and it was enough to make Goro look up from his book.

“Why won’t you help me?”

He probably shouldn’t ignore that. With a sigh Goro let his book snap shut, and it rested itself onto the end table. “I was under the impression that you were the one trying to _‘help’_ me.” It’d be best to be blunt. “Either way, it’s because I think this is a meaningless trek you’re on.”

“You told me,” Kurusu began with a lump in his throat. “That you would’ve left anytime in the last seven years, if you knew how. You go outside in the evening and you cry until the sun comes up, do you know how that—” He stopped himself. Then swallowed down. “You literally admitted that you’re suffering. I just want to find a way of giving you the option to end it.”

There was sentiment there that Goro didn’t expect. But it didn’t change the facts of the matter.

“If you think I hadn’t already tried everything I could, then you haven’t been paying attention. I know myself better than you do, Kurusu.”

“Then we can figure something else out,” Kurusu suggested, gaining almost gusto. “There’s not a reason to stop trying again. I’m not even telling you that you should leave, just that you can choose for yourself if you want to be here or not.”

Goro got up. “Listen to me. I’m not going to waste my time.” It wasn’t something that was up for debate.

“Would you quit being so stubborn.”

Had their situation been where they were before, Goro would’ve argued that Kurusu was being far more persistent than he was. But Kurusu was leaning far into one direction, and it was becoming clear there was something that must’ve not been clicking.

And, it might’ve been different than what Goro thought. Kurusu wanted more of a reason, or more of an understanding. There were more pieces of himself than he could count that Goro didn’t understand, but at least he’d been stuck in his mind long enough to know his own motivations.

“You have convinced yourself into thinking that I want to leave now,” Goro said, just a tad slowly. “Even if I… hurt. This is different than how I used to be. The circumstances have changed.”

Kurusu’s brow furrowed. The answer probably hadn’t been enough. “What do you mean, the circumstances?”

Goro didn’t want this to go on much longer than it had.

“It’s worse to be alone.”

Kurusu took a moment to register. Goro continued—even if this wasn’t the answer he wanted, it was the only conclusion he would get.

“Your time here may be temporary, but mine isn’t. If your goal is to let me pick and choose, let me choose this. Let me solve my circumstances on my own time.”

Something flipped on. Kurusu’s face changed into realization, and then guilt. Goro wanted to leave as much as he could unspoken. If company was enough to keep Goro sane for the next lifetime, then he could deal with the pain tenfold. The company happened to be (though, hopefully it would stay this way) Kurusu.

“Don’t look at me like that,” Goro said as Kurusu’s frown deepened. “I prefer it this way.”

***

As the weeks went by, living together became something less tolerable and something more routine. Sharing each other's presence was commonplace, and Goro never would’ve realized how much loneliness would be lifted from his shoulders. They would relax (as close Goro could get, at least) together.

“Hey, Goro,” Akira said, lounging on a new leather couch he’d bought with a bowl of cereal. Goro couldn’t complain about eating while on his furniture if it wasn’t Goro’s furniture. “You should, like, possess me.”

“What.”

Of course, no matter how well they got along, Akira was still the same person.

“No, listen.” Akira adjusted himself, carefully holding his bowl in his lap. “You could possess me and then head out and see a movie, or something. You could even have popcorn, I wouldn’t be mad.”

It was always something new with him. “Ignoring my disinterest, I don’t think it’s even possible for me to do that.”

“But have you _tried?”_

“I don’t want to try.”

Akira sighed. “I bet it would feel weird.” He didn’t sound like he thought it would be a problem. “I wonder how sentient I’d be during the session. We could make it a bonding experience.”

He took a bite of his cereal, crunching with attitude in Goro’s direction. It was all too obvious he was enjoying this, Goro wondered where he got his simplicity from.

“If you’d like to take part in some demonic rituals to get yourself possessed, be my guest. But I’m not going to be a part of it.”

All he got was Akira’s blank-slate version of a pout. “I don’t want to get possessed by any old entity.” He paused. “How _do_ you possess someone, though?”

“I don’t know,” Goro said with a roll of his eyes. “I have been stuck inside this house for seven years with no information coming inside or out. What makes you think that I’d know anything about _possession?”_

Akira considered that. “So there’s no ghostly knowledge of specifics, huh.”

Goro didn’t reply, since that was something Akira certainly already knew. Though he regretted letting Akira get an idea, since a grin curled onto his face in the most devious fashion.

“All the more reason why you should possess me, and then we can find more possessed people, and then—”

“No,” Goro interrupted. He wasn’t going to try and possess him, no matter how appealing getting out of the house sounded.

“How about a maybe?”

“No.”

“Maybe.”

Goro took Akira’s spoon and flicked him in the nose. Akira snatched it out of the air like it was commonplace. And it was, just a little bit.

***

It’d been months now. Goro wasn’t sure he’d ever known someone like he knew Akira.

They still had a ways to go, that much was sure. But Goro couldn’t find himself regretting that Akira was living in his home anymore. He had begun to be someone that was more than entertainment, but just someone to him. Almost a friend. He was a comforting presence.

But also a damning one.

Goro had begun deteriorating. It was past where he could control it. Rot and gangrene lingered on his body, as the illusion of skin he had fell away to reveal bone and gore. Even the falsified clothes he wore began to tear, fabric holding on by the shreds of a thread. Some days were better and some worse, but there came times where Akira could hardly look at him.

“Were you even meant to stay this long?” Akira asked him.

Goro didn’t know. This had never happened before, and he was falling apart quickly. It’d been seven years without a disruption, and then a sudden rapid moment of decay. Obviously the biggest difference in his existence was Akira, but Goro thought it was deeper than just his arrival.

In fact, Goro could tell he was nearing _something._ And it gave him an idea as to a reason.

And it was ironic, what it was he was clinging to. Or the conclusion that he tried to form that rounded off to the most organic ending. Why would it begin to become clear now, when he couldn’t do anything about it? It felt cruel, like a trick.

“I died so angry,” Goro began, realizing more as he spoke. “I stayed angry. I’ve been angry all these years. But now it… isn’t all I am anymore. And I think that’s what was grounding me.”

Part of him told him this was wrong. But Akira was listening intently, and isn’t this what he’d wanted?

“It isn’t like I’ve forgiven anyone. Or that I’m not angry about the injustices I’ve been through. It’s just—faded. From my worldview. And I think much more will be my undoing.”

Akira looked guilty again. Goro wasn’t sure what to say.

***

One evening, Goro and Akira were sitting in the master bedroom. Akira was wrapped in a blanket, tucked into the corner of the wall the bed rested against. Goro sat in his performative way next to him, feeling almost as fake as he could while he pretended to lean against his shoulder. He didn’t feel it, though surely Akira felt the cold, but they spent the moment together.

It’d been a few hours. Sitting together came at Akira’s suggestion, and Goro humored it. Perhaps it was a night he’d felt vulnerable, or maybe he wanted Goro to freeze his arm off. But Goro sat, touch starved an understatement, and tried to take in the nothingness he was given.

“Hey, weird question,” Akira began, still not looking straight at Goro. He didn’t usually, these days, since the rot had finally found its way to Goro’s face. It trickled up his cheek and ate at his eyeball, though it didn’t impare him. But Akira couldn’t look, and Goro didn’t hold it against him. “Is there a reason why you’re blue?”

“You mean—as in how I physically appear?” Akira nodded, and Goro thought on it. He’d never thought too much about how he looked as a ghost. It was his body, and it happened to appear in different hues of blue. He’d only really started paying attention recently, as the decay became more and more visible. It hadn’t occurred to him to think much of his color.

“I never had an attachment to blue,” Goro said, and it felt off coming off his tongue. Though most things did those days. “But I suppose you could say it’s odd that I’m not just some—desaturated and transparent version of how I used to be.”

Akira fiddled absently with the corner of his blanket. He hummed at Goro’s explanation. “Yeah, I guess you wouldn’t have always been blue.”

“I was brunette,” Goro told him, not sure exactly why he wanted to explain this to Akira. “My eyes were red.” It was hard to say _‘was_ ,’ not in that he hadn’t accepted he died, but in that he really never considered the change. If one were to ask him unprompted what his hair color was, he wouldn’t answer steel blue. “Is there something about it? I doubt it could change.”

Akira shuffled around some. He pulled the blanket a little farther around him. “It feels a little dumb to say I had a history with a color, but I wouldn’t say it was one that reminded me of good times for a while.”

He didn’t elaborate, and Goro let it sit. Goro had so little clarity over just what his existence was, the relevance of what _shade_ he took was unknown to him. There were no references to go by. If there was a reason or not for it, Goro didn’t know.

“Do you think,” Akira asked suddenly. “If I touched your actual body, would you feel it?”

Goro didn’t think much for his reply. “I don’t know. But I’m surely close to being only bones now.”

“I’m not gonna dig you up, so don’t worry.”

“I think you’d be treading close to dangerous waters if you were that desperate.”

Akira laughed, and then let a pause sit.

“Maybe I would’ve, if I found you seven years earlier.”

He sighed deeply, and he sounded upset. Goro didn’t want to think about how much he returned the sentiment.

“I’m sure I would’ve hated you,” he said.

“That’s nothing new.” Akira had a smile in his voice.

It was silent for a while. They were probably supposed to be thinking about what their lives could’ve been, but Goro decided that was a stupid idea. He hadn’t died for a reason, the unknowns about who he could’ve been were too great to count. There wasn’t a fantasy to be had.

Akira fell asleep while he was cuddled into the corner. Goro stayed there for a little while, and as expected, stayed very awake.

_Just a bit too late._

***

It was the next morning, and Goro could tell something was wrong.

There was something burning, and painful, and full of spite. It was wrapping him up and eating him whole, it was the first time he could feel something boiling down in his core.

He was crying out, and it was different. Akira came bustling down the stairs in seconds, hair awry and pajamas messy.

“Wh—What’s wrong?” He sounded frantic, but sleepy, and thoroughly confused. It was taking everything Goro had to even think hard enough for a reply.

“Akira I—” He spurted out, feeling almost as if he was collapsing in on himself. Everything was going white, dozing in and out of outlines and familiar shapes. If Goro didn’t know where his mind resided before, it felt like now he was conscious of every part of his body. Each aching limb grasping for whatever semblance of life it could hold.

“I think I’m dying.”

Akira froze. “I thought—I thought you didn’t—”

“Do I _look_ like I have any fucking control over this!”

Goro gasped, not sure if he was reaching for air or something else, and mustered every bit of himself to try and slow what was consuming him. He concentrated on himself and willed harder than he imagined he ever could. And it worked, a little.

The atmosphere of the house fell into a stale calmness. Goro turned silent, not daring to relax, gripping himself together as hard as he could.

“Are you… okay?” Akira asked. He moved closer to Goro, careful steps like he wasn’t sure what might happen if he tiptoed too near.

Goro wished he had a tongue to bite down on. “It’s going to be today.”

The morning went by in a painful blur. Akira was trying to do everything he could. Goro needed to focus to keep himself from degrading away, and needed something to keep his mind on. He asked Akira to light a candle so he could watch the flame. His haze continued through the sounds of Akira calling out of work and the scent of lemon drifting through the room.

Goro hovered on his back, a few inches from the floor. Akira sat next to him on his knees, watching him more than he had in months.

“Would it help if you did your… falling apart thing?” He sounded more distressed than Goro had ever heard him. Maybe Goro would feel warm for the sentiment, or maybe he’d have hated it, if not for every piece of himself feeling like it was leaving him behind.

“No,” Goro croaked. “I can’t relax now. My body is an effect of my concentration. I’d be worse off if I let myself divide.”

Akira nodded nervously. He clearly wanted to help, even reaching out a few times before remembering that Goro wasn’t tangible. It was surely out of habit, but the gesture was enough for Goro to feel just a little glad. He’d never had someone to mourn over him before.

Though now, Akira looked like he was close to breaking down. Red was flushing onto his face, and his deep frown only seemed to grow more dismal. His eyes were cloudy, and he jittered with anxious ticks. Perhaps it was nice to be enough to someone to warrant some emotion, but he didn’t want to see him like this.

“Stop fretting so much,” Goro said. He didn’t even attempt to look reassuring. This was happening, no matter how kindly he might try to go. If he’d been selfish his entire time here, then he could be selfish in his final moments, too. “Just… stay with me.”

Akira did. As the morning stretched on and Goro was teetering close to the edge of eradication, Akira stayed still next to him, staring at him despite the decay. No matter how pathetic he looked, he sat and he stayed.

Odd thoughts kept coming to Goro, and they were stranger than any iteration of his usual. He’d had memories of his life come back to him before, but there was something about the ones he was collecting now. They felt different. Goro wondered if this was his life flashing before his eyes.

Goro was fading farther from living, he knew that. More thoughts came to him as he drifted, and despite how personal they were, they felt wrong. Like they belonged to him, but they weren’t his.

Like it wasn’t his life.

Goro began to crumble. Bits and pieces of him falling apart and withering away into thin air.

“Oh god,” Akira said, the beginnings of a sob building up in his words.

Goro could hardly think about him now. More thoughts were coming to him, overwhelming his consciousness in sharp stabs. With a sudden spike, Goro sat up in pain, a deafening scream pouring out of him. Each piece of a concept that slid together pierced him, with no break and no explanation.

The pain reached a high, and Goro was sure that if there was air in his lungs that he’d have expelled all of it. With a final jolt came a buzz, and then a sudden realization. Above the pain and the sorrow, there sat a moment of clarity.

Goro’s eyes shot open. He turned to face Akira, his jaw slack and disbelief in his eyes.

“I know you.”

These were memories. He was fading, and whatever blockage that had formed around them was fading, too. These were his _lives_ , each one trying to argue its way into his mind, into the fleeting amounts of existence he had left.

“Fuck,” Goro stuttered. “ _Fuck!”_

_How long have I—_

He twisted his body around, and raised himself higher. He rested his hands onto Akira’s cheeks, and he couldn’t feel it, but he let the cold run onto his face as he lingered there. Akira only stared, searching for conclusions that Goro couldn’t offer.

“ _I know you,_ ” Goro repeated. “I’ve known you for so long.”

He began to realize how many times this had happened. How often he’d been ripped from Akira. And it had to be now _,_ of all times, while he was fading away from this very reality. Or perhaps it was because of that.

Goro wouldn’t forget. Not again, not now. Whoever had done this to him had made a mistake keeping him alive, and now he _knew._ If Goro was anything, he was stubborn, and he was angrier than ever before.

“I’ll find you,” Goro said to Akira. He looked at him straight in the eyes. “I will find you, so you better fucking look for me.”

Goro could feel himself falling apart. He was leaving now, his body first and soon to follow was his mind. But he thought about Akira. He thought about him with every bit of his being left, from his legs to his spine to his heart.

“ _Find me!”_ he cried. And Akira nodded, before the break in his voice came through. Before the hard breaths and the heavy tears, and before the deep guttural sobs.

With a pop and a heartbreak, Goro disappeared.

_—————————————————————————_

_**20xx** _

_Kneel._

_***_

Goro was trudging up a snowy hill that was too steep for its own good.

He was on his way home from classes. It’d been a stroke of luck to have a house near the university, but today of all days he wished he had a car. The storm had taken a turn for the worst in the last hour, and now he was knee deep in the consequences.

As the blizzard pelted his face, Goro hoped idly the snow might freeze his brain solid, to get the incessant pounding in his frontal lobe to give him a rest. It sent shooting pains down his neck and through his back, even making his teeth ache. Going home and dying in his bed didn’t seem like too bad of an option at this point.

Or if this weather kept up, maybe he’d slip on the sidewalk, crack his head open, and end it right there.

Reaching his doorstep, it was entirely useless to try and wipe his shoes on the welcome mat (which he hadn’t put there, but he didn’t care enough to throw it away), since it was just as snowy and wet as the sidewalks. He stepped inside carelessly, too focused on the cold and the headache to worry about tracking water in.

Goro knew that if he let himself lay down he was going to sleep—pain was exhausting after all. But his typical nightmares had been getting worse, and strange dreams only getting stranger. Sleeping was about the last thing he wanted to do this afternoon.

Doctors hadn’t been any help, not with the frequent migraines or the dreams, so he’d stopped trying altogether. Goro’s only solution at home was to put a hot compress on his forehead and pop an ibuprofen dosage.

Today his head hurt worse than usual. Like someone had taken a hammer to his skull and left the shards to stab into his brain. As if something was trying to break in, and Goro just didn’t have the room.

He wondered if he could switch doctors. Winter break was incoming, maybe he could convince someone to prescribe him more decent painkillers. If they couldn’t find a cause, some temporary relief would suffice.

Sleep was nearing, and Goro could feel it. He wanted to fight it, he _tried_ to fight it, but it sucked him in and left him defenseless for the evening.

***

Sitting in his last class for the day, Goro was close to passing out in his seat.

He’d woken up feeling worse, which wasn’t entirely new. Mornings were often a drag and the pain would dull throughout the day. But this time it only spiked higher. Goro could barely concentrate on the lesson, not with the spots in his eyes and head spinning.

It’d never hurt like this. Class ended and Goro could barely walk out of the lecture hall. The spots were growing over the vision on his left side, and as he wobbled out of the room it was like he was tripping over air.

He contemplated going to the hospital, but decided against it. He only had one day of classes to attend left, he could relax at home or admit himself into emergency care afterwards. If he was going to spend winter break in a hospital bed, he’d do it with perfect attendance behind him. Goro couldn’t afford missing lessons.

A classmate wandered up to him with a concerned look in his eye and offered to drive him home. Goro denied it, though thanked him anyway. He vaguely knew him, not by name but by having two other classes with him, but he wasn’t about to get into a car with a stranger. Not in the defenseless state he was in.

Though he found himself regretting the decision as he began walking home. The hill leading to his house looked especially treacherous that afternoon, and it was still snowing hard. The brightness the snow lended made his eyes sting, and he was gasping for breath the whole way up.

Goro managed to not die before he entered his home, but by the time he got there he’d completely lost vision in his left eye. He barely took a moment to slouch off his schoolbag before he felt something churn in his stomach. Without a second thought, he took off to his bathroom and vomited. Tears ran down his face as he wretched, reacting to the pain in the most pathetic way he knew how. Each heave had him hurting more, a tingling that ran from his head to his toes.

His head felt like it was on fire, sweat trickling down his face and dripping onto the tiles. Goro crawled to his bathtub and turned on the nozzle, turning the handle to the coldest setting. It felt like ages waiting for the tub to fill, moaning to himself without the energy to do more than wail.

It filled halfway, and Goro decided that was good enough. With the water still running and his shirt on, he dunked his head and tried to take in the cool. There was relief, for a moment, before the blood began to rush to his head. A dizzy spell hit, and he suddenly felt very faint. Drowning himself in the bathtub wasn’t exactly how he wanted to go, but he struggled to muster the energy to put his head above the water.

His eyes rolled to the back of his head. He felt his wrists go limp, like he was actually losing control of his body. The pain was everywhere now, all consuming and too distracting for him to scream at himself to get a grip. He felt like he was falling.

In a flash, everything went white. It felt like a coarse string in the back of Goro’s head had snapped. The pain stopped altogether, maybe for the first time in what was probably years, like a quick pinch without consequence. Goro pulled himself out of the tub and whipped his head out, hair soaked and eyes sharp.

“What the fuck.”

***

It was the day before winter break, and Goro sat in class bouncing his leg with his mind clearer than it had ever been.

He remembered. It was just bits and pieces to a larger puzzle, but he remembered. After Goro had tore himself out of the bathtub and heaved for breath, memories started collecting into his mind. Something of a past, an understanding, and a whole lot of anger.

There had been enough clarity that he knew there was a truth to hold onto, but not enough to nitpick details of his past self. Or past _selves_ , as Goro came slowly to realize. His perspective was jumbled, but he’d been able to slice apart several instances into their own personal lifetimes.

The one he remembered best was the one he thought was most recent. A time where he’d died twice—once in hatred and once in love. Both times murdered, though one surely less intentional. It’d been a grevious lifetime, however rewarding it’d ended.

But it had given him access to memories, and they had stuck. Enough at least to tell him that there was something wrong, and that there was something forcing the path they’d been walking. What it was, Goro didn’t know. But it was real, and it’d made a mistake.

Now Goro sat, glaring daggers into the student in front of him. It was the very same boy who’d offered to drive him home yesterday. Goro didn’t know him well then, and arguably still didn’t know now, but he was Akira Kurusu. He, who was the other half of the problem Goro needed to uncover.

Of very few consistencies, Kurusu was a constant. Though Goro didn’t think he was the perpetrator—it was much more likely that he was a victim as well. He hadn’t shown any signs of remembering so far, but if this was a problem that involved both of them, working together might be one of very few options.

He wanted to get Kurusu alone. See if he could talk with him and get the ball rolling. So far, Goro’s only plan was to ask if he could take him up on his offer to drive Goro home. How he might take it was beyond him, but he needed to talk to him as soon as possible. Whatever _thing_ was causing this, getting a jump on it would only be a positive.

Though to his surprise, once class ended Kurusu turned to Goro all on his own. He had a familiar grin on his face, odd in how this was the first time Goro as his current self had ever seen it.

“You look like you’re feeling better,” he said. “I really thought you were going to turn up dead on the news last night.”

Goro blinked. He could work with this. “I’ve been a bit up and down today, all in all,” he lied. Goro hadn’t felt this good in years. He wondered if those memories trying to worm their way in had been the source of his headaches. It made more sense as to why doctors couldn’t figure out the problem, at least.

Kurusu gave an empathetic look. “Sorry to hear that.” Part of his expression didn’t seem like he believed the lie, but it wasn’t as accusatory as much as it was… inviting? “I can still give you that ride, if you’re interested.”

“I’ll admit I had more trouble getting home yesterday than I anticipated.” _That_ wasn’t a lie. Goro was sure if he’d lived any farther he would’ve blacked out in a snowpile.

“I’ve got you covered.”

The drive home was mostly quiet, though Kurusu didn’t seem to mind. They chatted just a little about classes, but there wasn’t much time to get a conversation going even if they’d wanted to. The sky was clear today, and even with Kurusu going slowly on the icy hill they arrived at Goro’s house quickly.

Kurusu offered to help Goro in, since he _‘wasn’t feeling great.’_ Even just to carry his bag in for him. Goro raised his eyebrows at how well this was going, though he was suspicious Kurusu might have his mind somewhere far differently to where Goro’s was.

Inside, Kurusu loitered a bit next to the front door. He seemed like he didn’t know what to do now that he’d gotten this far, or maybe he was waiting for something.

Well, if he wanted something, Goro did have his reasonings for inviting him in.

“May I talk to you?”

Kurusu looked surprised. “Uh, sure thing.”

Goro tried to find a way to word it. “I know how this will sound—” He cut himself off, very suddenly thinking better of the whole ordeal. There were ways to explain things to someone, and there were ways to freak someone out into never talking to them again. This was among the few that would teeter along the edge of both lines. “No. Never mind. It isn’t anything.”

“No, what’s up?” Kurusu asked. “Don’t worry too much, Akechi-san.”

Goro scrunched up his nose. He’d already passed the point of no return, hadn’t he. Kurusu was someone who liked to get answers, one way or another. Though Goro hadn’t remembered that until the very moment he was in.

He may as well try. Or at least, see how well he could work around the topic without sounding like he was delusional. “Do you… _happen_ to recognize me?”

Kurusu paused, tilting his head to the side. “Like outside of class?”

That was all the answer Goro needed. This hadn’t been a mutual instance, only Goro remembered the past lives they’d lived. “That’s fine,” he said, absolutely making sure not to sound disappointed. “Don’t think much of it.”

“No, go on,” Kurusu urged. He looked interested. Goro shook his head.

“No, I mean it. It’s really fine—I’m sorry to bother you like this.”

But Kurusu looked incredibly earnest. He leaned into the conversation, walking up a bit closer to Goro with confidence in his step.

“Hey look. I promise whatever it is won’t be the weirdest thing I’ve ever heard.” He smiled reassuringly.

_I doubt that,_ Goro thought. He pressed his lips together firmly, and gave himself a moment to think. Even if Kurusu didn’t remember now, there was a chance he simply needed some incentive. And it wasn’t like he wouldn’t be involved if he didn’t remember, since that had never been the case in the past. In that way, it might be best to expand a little.

Though, he still couldn’t just be out with the full truth. Even Goro’s understanding was shaky at best, ignoring that he’d also sound crazy. “If I told you that… I think that I _know_ you from before but we may have… been made to intentionally forget. What would you say?”

Even that seemed like too much to say, but Goro wasn’t sure where else to go with it. If this was the end of the conversation, then that would be that.

“Like… as children?” Kurusu asked, brows furrowed.

This could be the only shot he had.

“...Yes.”

Kurusu looked at him with his head tilted. “I’d say, uh, holy shit?” He rubbed the back of his neck. “Were we neighbors or something?”

“I only really remembered anything yesterday evening,” Goro elaborated, trying to tell more truth than lies. “There’s a lot that I don’t really understand myself. I’m decently in the dark about the entire situation. I just thought that… perhaps there's something we could do.”

Goro knew exactly what he sounded like. It was a longshot that Kurusu would even consider going along with this, much less have an actual reason why.

But Kurusu nodded. “Sure, alright.” Goro’s eyes went big, and Kurusu shrugged. “I mean, shit happens. And I’ll admit my childhood is pretty hazy.”

“Are you… _serious?”_

“Well why not,” Kurusu said nonchalantly. “I can always bounce if I think you’re a weirdo.”

Goro didn’t know why he didn’t already think he _was_. But part of him guessed this was more in character for Kurusu than out. He’d always been one to dive headfirst with grace.

“Fine then.” Goro laced his fingers together, frowning at the steady gaze Kurusu gave him. Like he had all of his attention. “Then first things first: Why don’t we try and get you to remember.”

***

Two days into winter break, Goro and Kurusu were meeting at a café. It wasn’t anything special, but it was warm and private enough. Not that any eavesdropper might have any idea what they were talking about.

Goro had been trying to come up with ways on his own to figure out a way to jog Kurusu’s memory. It was a bit tricky, seeing as he didn’t remember much himself, but there was a consistency somewhere.

Most of his memories had begun to collect in dreams. Just little bits, conversations or events that Goro viewed through a lens. Some of them didn’t have anything to do with Kurusu, and some were scenes that surrounded him entirely. Though it remained consistent that Kurusu was the only person ever singled out.

He asked Kurusu if he’d had any strange dreams. Perhaps an odd way to break the ice, but Kurusu didn’t seem to mind.

“I mean, I don’t think so,” Kurusu replied, swirling his coffee in his mug. “I’m pretty sure I just have regular weird dreams, but I guess I don’t really know.”

That was understandable. “Honestly, I think you’d be able to tell the difference.”

Kurusu nodded with a bit of a bounce and took a sip of his coffee. Goro could tell that he was taking this half-seriously, but he couldn’t expect better. Had someone proposed something like this to _Goro,_ he would’ve dismissed it as some pyramid scheme recruitment. Getting this far with Kurusu was a miracle.

Now he was staring into his coffee intelligently, and Goro wondered what kind of bullshit was going through his mind. He’d always been picky about his coffee, Goro remembered. Just interacting was enough for more memories to come to him, but that didn’t seem to be the case for Kurusu.

“How’d you remember, exactly?” Kurusu asked.

Now wasn’t that a question.

“I’m not sure. I’d like to say it was because of headaches I used to get, but I think that was an effect of the memories, not a cause.” He took a moment to think. “Honestly, I think it’s because of something I did… before. I don’t think you could mimic it.”

That _something_ being when he’d begun to remember as a ghost. The memories clicked, and Goro was the same person he always was, so the light stayed on. Ever since childhood Goro had been riddled with headaches and odd dreams, so it was more than likely that his remembering had been in the running for a long time. If Kurusu didn’t have those, his circumstances for remembering would be different.

“I wonder if it’s even possible for you to get your memories back,” Goro muttered to himself. The more he thought about it, the more unlikely it seemed.

“Hey now, we might as well try.”

Goro raised his eyebrows. “That’s quite the positive attitude.”

With a smirk, Kurusu raised his mug to his lips. “Well, it doesn’t hurt that I’m on a coffee date with a real looker.”

Not surprised at Kurusu’s impromptu motivation, Goro rolled his eyes.

***

It was Christmas Eve.

“Are the memories I’m missing of you being a clown?”

Goro all but coughed up his drink. “ _Excuse me?_ ”

Kurusu was over at Goro’s house again, just as a last minute get together. He’d been out, Goro didn’t know with what, but now they were discussing more on Kurusu’s memories.

Or, they had planned to, but it was generally mostly silent up until Kurusu’s clown comment.

“I had a dream I was being chased by a murderous clown,” Kurusu elaborated. He had a crooked grin on his face. Goro sighed.

“No,” he said. “I was not a clown in my youth.” He had never been a clown _ever_ as far as he remembered.

Kurusu nodded. “That’s good. I’m glad you weren't trying to kill me.”

The awkward silence returned. Goro hated the feeling of being uncomfortable in his own home, but Kurusu settled onto the couch and kept his mouth shut. It should’ve been expected Goro would have to spark most of their conversations, since at first that had almost always been the case.

The more Goro remembered about his past lives, the more he felt disconnected from them. They weren’t necessarily influencing him or his personality right now, it was more like they were movies that he was deeply invested in remembering the plots of. They were far enough away that he wasn’t reliving lives in his memories, but close enough that he knew he’d been the same person all along.

He cleared his throat in the silence, since obviously they weren’t getting anywhere. “You’re welcome to go home. I need to think by myself for a little while.”

Kurusu hummed like he understood the sentiment. He stood up and collected his coat without a word, but he seemed very content otherwise. Pulling on his gloves, he turned to Goro for a goodbye.

“Merry Christmas.”

Goro blinked, and then shook his head. “Sure. Merry Christmas.”

***

It was probably hopeless, now that Goro had really given it some thought.

It was the 29th. He’d remembered for about two weeks now, and since then he’d been keeping a general eye on Kurusu. But the memories weren’t there for him, he was almost sure of it.

He was certain now that his constant headaches were effects of his memories. They had genuinely been going on and off since his childhood. Would sparking something now mean it’d take Kurusu 24 more years to remember, just like it had for Goro? It was likely that Goro had been preparing for this all his life, but Kurusu didn’t have his mind quite equipped for it yet.

Or ever, in all honesty. Goro was considering breaking contact with him for a while, see if he could stop wasting time on memories and see if he could solve the problem on his own.

The two of them were meeting at the café again. It was probably going to be the last get-together that Goro planned for a while. If there really was something trying to interfere with them, it might be safer that Goro kept his distance until he figured everything out.

Though Kurusu was as enthusiastic as ever. Goro grit his teeth at how compelling this seemed to be for him. He was so _eager._ It was going to make him feel bad for breaking contact.

“Why are you still… trusting me on this,” Goro began, with the hope of tidying things over. “I could easily be trying to waste your time, or fuck you over.”

Kurusu bit the inside of his cheek in thought. “Well, I guess it’s because I want to remember. Simple as that. Memories are pretty important, and I dunno. I personally kinda have a _thing_ about it.”

“A ‘thing _?_ ’”

“A thing.” Kurusu tilted his head from side to side. “I don’t like forgetting stuff, don’t like forgetting people, you know. It makes _me_ feel like _I’ve_ been less forgotten. Not that I have like, abandonment issues or something like that.” He laughed to himself.

Goro frowned, feeling a little guilty that he was going to try and ghost him after this. Maybe he’d humor him from time to time, but even if he wanted to get the memories back, if he couldn’t he couldn’t.

With their discussion leading nowhere and Kurusu seeming not an inch closer to remembering, Goro decided surely that he’d leave him out of it.

But maybe, just for the sake of self indulgence, he wouldn’t mind seeing him from time to time.

***

On New Years Eve, Goro was wandering around his empty college campus. He was on the lookout for something that might spark another memory in himself.

Since it was not only holiday break but also an actual holiday, Goro decided that if he wanted to take a look around in relative privacy, today would be the day. There were a lot of different areas to explore with different themes and ideas, so he thought there was a good chance something might dawn on him.

He ended up in the music department, taking a trip down one of the long halls. It led him to a path to another smaller building, and inside he discovered it was a space dedicated to instrumental practice rooms.

There were a few signs around, explaining the know-how’s and similar. Apparently he could rent a room for an hour with his student I.D. Part of him wanted to, since already he’d felt inclined to find a piano. He wasn’t sure the relevance, but that’s exactly what he was trying to figure out.

“Afternoon,” said another student sitting at a desk in the back. He was probably who Goro would go to for renting a room. Goro took one last moment to consider it, before deciding he didn’t have anything to lose. If he really wanted to, he could explore more tomorrow, since it was still a holiday.

The piano room was private, no windows and only a single door to go in and out. It wasn’t too spacious, but he didn’t feel cramped. There had been another sign on the door informing students that the rooms were sound proof and _“not to be shy.”_ So he had the hour just about entirely to himself.

He sat down onto the piano bench and stared. The piano was sleek and black, Goro was fairly sure it was a grand piano. He sighed, tracing his finger over the key cover. There was no indication that Goro had even known how to play the piano, it felt silly requesting an entire room for it.

His phone buzzed. Pulling it out of his pocket, he wasn’t surprised to see it was Kurusu.

_**Kurusu:** you around? _

_**Goro:** Not really. _

_**Kurusu:** aw, busy then? _

Goro put a hand behind him and leaned down on the bench. Talking to Kurusu had usually proved to be a good way of sparking his memories, and he did have an hour.

_**Goro:** I’m just on campus. _

_**Kurusu:** hey same hat _

_**Kurusu:** you wanna get coffee? _

_**Goro:** I wouldn’t call myself that available. _

_**Kurusu:** do not tell me youre in an extra class right now you mad lad _

_**Kurusu:** though i would be surprised youd text in class _

_**Goro:** I’m not in class. _

_**Kurusu:** then what are you doing on campus _

_**Kurusu:** im here because believe it or not i live here _

With a bored sigh, Goro felt like he may as well cave, a little bit.

_**Goro:** I’ve found myself renting a piano room in the music department. Though I don’t play. **Goro:** I’m a little stuck for the hour. _

_**Kurusu:** oh lmao _

_**Kurusu:** you want some company in your lonely piano room_

_**Goro:** You don’t have to. _

_**Kurusu:** which building is it? _

Goro debated telling him. He really wasn’t trying to maintain a relationship here, but at least this wasn’t inherently about regaining the memories. There was a frustrating part of him that missed Kurusu, even though his present self had barely known him for two weeks. It was hard to deny it.

He told Kurusu where to go. A short hour together wouldn’t be awful, and if his goal was to get more memories today, it still held true that Kurusu helped more than he hurt.

It was about twenty minutes before Kurusu showed up. He looked cold, bundled up into a scarf and his gloves still on when he walked into the piano room. Upon seeing Goro he smiled, peeling off his layers one by one.

“It’s so cold out there,” he said, stuffing his gloves into the pockets of his coat. “It started snowing too.”

“I won’t be looking forward to that.” Goro turned around on the piano bench. They were quiet for a minute. “Then, do you happen to play the piano?”

Kurusu took an exaggerated moment to pretend to think. “Not even a little bit.”

“And you still came?”

With a shrug, Kurusu leaned onto the wall. “Well, this is about the memory thing, right? Aren’t I a part of that?”

Goro was surprised he brought it up on his own. Especially since it was pretty clear Kurusu had additional underlying intentions.

He hadn’t planned to start pestering Kurusu with memory garble today though, so he let the statement sit with a shake of his head.

Kurusu joined him on the bench, Goro scooting over a bit to give them both space. It creaked under their pressure, but with a satisfied sigh Kurusu settled in. He raised up the keycover with hardly a moment of hesitation and rubbed his hands together.

“Let’s be Mozart together.”

Goro gave an amused smile. “I think you’re overestimating either of our abilities.”

“Do you really need abilities if you’re Mozart?” Kurusu tapped on his chin like he was thinking. “I think not.”

Goro was ready to argue with him, but Kurusu pressed a single pathetic key and let the sound resonate through the room. He leaned towards Goro as a gesture for him to go next, and with a sigh he did, tapping a note near the opposite end. They didn’t sound good in succession, but Kurusu picked another and a back and forth began.

Kurusu chuckled when he tapped a key right next to where Goro’s finger still held his note, and Goro moved up half a step onto the black keys to counter him. It was nice, though nothing quite memory-inducing. But Goro already knew he liked spending time with Kurusu.

With a finish that was hardly grand and more just a failed harmony of three keys, Kurusu took his hands off the piano and rubbed them again.

“I think your hour is going to be up soon,” he said.

The both of them stood, Goro stretching out his back just a little while Kurusu headed towards the door. With a final bit of interest, Goro tapped a note on the high end of the piano, far away from where either of them had put their hands.

Kurusu stopped in his tracks. He turned around with a bewildered expression, looking down at the piano intently.

It surprised Goro. “What is it?”

“Uh, nothing,” Kurusu began, shaking his head out. “Just. Hm. The note was familiar—somehow. I have no idea.”

Sensing something, Goro stood closer to the piano and picked out the key again. Kurusu gave it another scowl and reapproached it, thinking hard.

Goro wasn’t sure if this was an instance to get his hopes up about. But on the chance it _was,_ he was going to ride it to its finish. He tapped the note again.

Kurusu stared down at the piano. With a gulp, he gingerly pressed a key. And then he tapped on another.

He started to make out a tune. It was choppy and unpolished, but it clearly wasn’t guesswork. Goro watched intently, trying to see if it was a melody he remembered.

For a solid moment, Kurusu stopped. He was looking down at his hands, before he whipped his head to Goro and then glanced at the key his finger was still lightly pressed on. Without much thought, Goro tapped it again.

Kurusu resumed the song. It was advancing and repeating, creating almost a chorus and verses. Every so often he’d glance at Goro and he’d press the note again, but it was becoming something frantic. He was sweating, almost locked in his own trance.

“Kurusu-san,” Goro called, growing more concerned with Kurusu’s safety than about any sort of memory this could bring. He was ignored as Kurusu kept playing, only pausing for Goro to hit his note. Each time he pressed it with more hesitance.

The tune was smoother now, faster and peppier, he was using both hands and transitioning evenly. Like a decent song, memorized and worked.

“Kurusu-san,” Goro tried again. He was getting worried at his persistence. When Kurusu waited for Goro to press his note Goro paused, but Kurusu simply tapped it on his own and continued.

Something was getting out of hand. Goro had to physically grab Kurusu by the wrist and pull him from the piano, not with much force but enough to make them both stumble back. Kurusu looked dizzy, and he ended up falling onto the floor, still sitting up but wide-eyed and disoriented.

In an instant Goro was on his knees beside him, firmly putting his hands on his shoulders. “Kurusu-san, look at me,” he ordered. “I want you to make eye contact.”

Kurusu looked confused. He stared at Goro, breathing heavily and his face red. Goro tried to speak as calmly and clearly as he could.

“Breathe.”

Kurusu passed out.

***

Goro was sitting with Kurusu in a hospital room. He wasn’t sure if it was a first or not, but the concern he felt certainly wasn’t.

After Kurusu had fainted, Goro called campus security. They were in the university’s hospital, not too far away from the dorms. It’d been the ending of the afternoon when they had arrived at the hospital, but it was well past midnight now. Kurusu had been sleeping the entire time, leaving Goro’s new years day celebrations to be bleaker than he’d already imagined.

The doctors had said that Kurusu was physically fine, and that most likely he’d collapsed from exhaustion. Goro wasn’t so sure that was the case, but he obviously couldn’t explain the situation in full. So he sat and waited, hoping the IV would work the wonders the nurses said it would.

When Kurusu’s eyes finally opened, he looked entirely confused. He glanced around the room until he saw Goro, and he sat staring in a stunned-seeming silence.

He wasn’t saying anything, keeping that intense look about him. Goro sighed.

“You’re in a hospital,” he explained. “The doctors said you collapsed from exhaustion. You should really—”

“Are you a fucking zombie?”

Goro’s eyes went wide. “What?”

“You… aren’t you dead?” He was hit with a dizzy spell. “ _Whoa. No you’re not._ What the fuck.”

“Do you… remember?” What had playing the piano done to him? Surely that wasn’t the first time he’d heard the note in his life _._

“Is this remembering?” Kurusu looked at Goro completely baffled.

“What’s going on inside your head right now?”

“I have no idea.” He paused, thinking. “Do you have a dog?”

Goro raised his eyebrows. “No?”

“Okay. Okay.” Kurusu nodded to himself with a deep scowl. “Are you sure you’re not dead, that one keeps coming back to me.”

“Um.”

“Alright , so you’re not. Maybe I’m just losing it—”

“Well,” Goro interrupted. He may as well try, he’d never been closer than this. “I… er. I _used_ to be? Not in a ‘zombie’ way, but.”

Kurusu tilted his head. And then, staring at Goro he squinted very hard. “Did you lie to me.” When Goro didn’t answer, he continued. “This isn’t a childhood friends thing, is it. ” He inhaled hard and quickly, eyes snapping wide. “Holy shit you were a ghost.”

Goro nodded slowly, worried one wrong move might break his concentration and Kurusu’s remembering would come to an end. Not to mention, Kurusu was sweating hard and clearly trying to settle his breathing; Goro didn’t want him to go unconscious again.

“This is what you meant, right? The—the, the ghost stuff?”

“Yes. Though there’s more than that,” Goro said carefully. “As I’m sure you’re aware?”

Kurusu frowned. “Should there be more?” He rubbed his hand against his forehead. “I feel like you’re right but I don’t—know, exactly.”

Goro considered that. Kurusu’s circumstances thus far had been different than how Goro remembered. And even when he’d only first gotten the memories, Goro gained an instant understanding of the situation at hand. Perhaps since the methods were different, they remembered differently? Like Kurusu had taken a quick and dirty path, painless but with consequences.

“I’m shocked it was through a piano, of all things. I don’t recall the memory between us and the instrument being all that pleasant.”

Kurusu had been readjusting himself on the hospital bed, sitting up on his pillows and relaxing the blanket further down onto his legs. He froze after Goro spoke. “Do you not remember when we played that song together like a dozen times?”

“I couldn’t play. I was dead.” Goro didn’t remember, in fact, _ever_ playing the piano in his lifetimes.

“Then how did…” Kurusu’s eyes lit up in recognition. “Oh my GOD I got fucking CURSED.”

That sounded vaguely familiar. Enough that it was something Goro didn’t think he could argue him on, but he didn’t explicitly remember the instance either. It surely wasn’t from his past life as a ghost.

Kurusu shook his head. “I’m getting things mixed up. We need to talk, like, _talk_ talk.”

There was a knock at the door, and a nurse promptly walked in.

“Later,” Goro said.

***

For the first time, the two of them were in Kurusu’s dorm room.

The hospital had released Kurusu and they’d made their way over, Goro explaining whatever he could on the way. It was clear now that Goro remembered significantly more than Kurusu, and the way they interpreted the memories were different. Surely Kurusu needed more time to mull over his thoughts on his own, but they had separate processes that carried separate conditions.

Kurusu hadn’t remembered, or even had it occur to him, that there was an outside force with control over them. Many of the tragedies that Goro’s mind had replayed to him in dreams weren’t shared memories. Goro wondered if in time he’d recall some, or if it would be better to keep him in the dark for others.

“Who is so desperate to keep us from smooching,” Kurusu had commented idly.

“I really doubt that’s the goal here.”

Kurusu’s dorm was cozy. It was fairly small, but that was expected. He didn’t have a roommate, which Goro thought was lucky considering the circumstances. It was odd to see the decorations of memorabilia around, detailing a life of someone Goro knew, but only met recently.

Kurusu was nestled into a blanket. “It’s still weird you’re tangible now.”

“Thanks.” Goro shook his head while Kurusu laughed.

There was a silence, Kurusu surely still trying to wrap his head around the situation.

“So you think this is because of someone else though, right,” Kurusu asked.

“Yes.” He took a moment to think. “While I was dying… _again_ , there was a certain bit of understanding I gained. Whatever the influence is, it probably doesn’t have much of a control on the fully dead. And well, I was getting there, and some bits of—really I don’t know what else to call it but understanding—came to me. So I’m fairly certain this is the direct doing of _something_.”

Kurusu nodded along. “So any ideas then?”

“Hardly. I was hoping that you’d provide some insight, or at least help me brainstorm.”

“Well I don’t have much right now.” Kurusu shrugged, looking like he felt a bit bad.

Goro frowned. “It’s odd you have anything at all, actually. I was under the impression that the reason I was able to remember was because of my time undead. I’ve been in the process of remembering my whole life. I thought you were a lost cause.”

He clearly left off that he was trying to steer their interactions to a close because of that. Largely because he’d obviously failed.

“I’m as confused as you are,” Kurusu said. “Do you think figuring out why I remembered would help?”

That was hard to say. There was a lot that was hard to say as they were.

“Maybe. I don’t know.”

***

Three days of brainstorming, and their efforts began to get pathetic.

The two of them were lazing around in Goro’s house again. They had less to go on than one might think, where they had obviously never made ground in their past lives, why would something come to them quickly now? It was frustrating.

“You know, if we don’t figure something out we are probably going to experience some tragic falling-out and never see each other again,” Goro said, relaxing on his couch and staring at the ceiling.

“That’d suck.”

Goro didn’t have it in him to ask for a better answer, because he was right. It would suck.

They sat longer in their silence, picking lint off furniture and thinking of the same ideas over and over. The best they could come up with was to _remember more,_ but that got old quickly. It was a waiting game, but even then they didn’t know if remembering would help much.

Kurusu shuffled in his seat. “Do you _really_ not remember the saltines thing, or are you just embarrassed?”

“I genuinely do not remember,” Goro said, entirely telling the truth. “I don’t know if I want to remember, regardless.”

The quiet resumed, more awkward feeling than before. Remembering a “ _saltines incident_ ” probably wouldn’t be useful, past giving something for Kurusu to tease him about. He supposed it was interesting that there were instances that Kurusu remembered that Goro didn’t, maybe something to do with what felt more relevant in their individual pasts. Goro still clearly remembered more, but Kurusu had his own bits that he was uncovering.

“Did you say you were cursed?” Goro asked, that being another memory Goro wasn’t entirely conscious of. “That sounds… familiar, I suppose.”

“It does?”

“It’s musty—incomplete. Though that’s a very specific circumstance isn’t it? Maybe there’s relevance there.” Goro wouldn’t know. He’d have to leave it to Kurusu to decipher if there was a riddle or not.

He considered it. “The curse was… well, I mean, it just made people forget me.” He swung his legs over the side of the armchair he was sitting in. “I don’t remember who cursed me, either. Part of the deal, I guess.”

“Well, in a certain sense, you aren’t cursed anymore. You may still have access to those memories,” Goro said. Kurusu seemed unsure, so Goro sighed. “It’s just a suggestion. But if you do remember anything about that, it could be beneficial.”

“I gotcha.”

And back into silence they fell. They weren’t getting much of anywhere today.

“Seventh is when we head back, right?” Kurusu asked. Unfortunately, winter break wouldn’t last forever.

“Yes,” Goro said. “I’d like to get some sort of idea of what to do before then, though.”

Kurusu hummed, nodding to himself. “Four days, then.”

That wasn’t long. Goro had already wasted most of the break just trying to get Kurusu’s memories back, but obviously this was going to take more than a few festive weeks to become a done and done deal.

“If we don’t, honestly things may begin to become dangerous.”

“Cause of the targeted thing, or whatever?”

“I don’t think it’s intentional that we remember each other,” Goro began, leaning back into his chair. “I think this is a mistake. But once… _whatever_ is aware, we may have to watch our backs.”

Kurusu frowned, and Goro could only return the expression. They weren’t in an exceptional situation, brainstorming going to naught might have fatal consequences.

“It’s weird to sorta-kinda remember dying,” Kurusu said, folding his arms. “Like that’s fucked up.”

Goro raised his eyebrows. “I assume you’re trying to imply you’d like to avoid that this time?”

“At least not while I’m 23.”

***

Goro was going through his assignments at home, making sure he was done with what he needed to be. Despite everything that was going on, he would be royally fucked if he flunked any classes.

It was the fifth now, two more days until school resumed. If nothing else, Goro was looking forward to attending classes with a clearer mind than he’d ever had. He had energy like never before, wandering around without a headache to bother him.

So maybe he was going through his assignments with more gusto, he couldn’t be blamed. Squarish or not, he was enjoying himself. He was sure to adjust sooner than later, but for now he’d flex a perfection like he had never before.

There was a very frantic knock on his front door, enough that it made him jump. Goro checked through the peephole to see it was Kurusu, and he opened the door promptly. He looked stressed.

“Hey,” he said, walking in. “Did you get my texts?”

“Oh, no,” Goro said. He hadn’t been around his phone, a little bit absorbed in his classwork. It was charging in his bedroom. “What’s going on?”

“I remember who cursed me.”

Goro’s eyes went wide, though he was a little confused on the urgency. Though he didn’t have to ask for elaboration, as Kurusu went on.

“It was this girl and she was—It doesn’t really matter what she looked like I guess but, I _literally_ dated her.”

Goro knit his eyebrows. “That’s, odd? I suppose. Though I’m failing to see how it’s all that relevant.” The comment made Kurusu run his hands through his hair.

“No. I mean, yes. But she was—I didn’t date her _then_.” Kurusu made a grunting noise. “It was—she was my ex! Do you remember? The one who cheated on me during the ghost stuff?”

Something settled in Goro’s stomach. “You… It was the same girl?”

“Yes,” Kurusu said. “And I really feel like it’s important.”

Goro ushered him to sit down in his typical spot, and then did the same. On the surface, it didn’t seem like _too_ much. People had repeated before, family members or the occasional friend. But with how fanatic Kurusu seemed about the ordeal, Goro was more than willing to give it some deeper thought. It wasn’t like they had anything else going for them.

“Do you remember her anywhere else?” Goro asked, keeping calm and serious.

Kurusu started to think about it. “It's… hazy. You know? But remembering her now it's like—there’s something about her. In a really weird way.”

“Try and think if she’s ever come up before.”

Kurusu scowled at the floor; Goro could tell there were gears turning in his head. Even if he didn’t remember exactly—holding a power like _legitimately cursing_ someone was dangerous in itself. If she wasn’t their perpetrator, she was probably someone to at least keep away from. Especially since she’d seem to have it out for Akira at least twice, without any known rhyme or reason.

Kurusu started gazing over at Goro’s classwork. It was left on the table in front of him. Goro didn’t say anything, it was clear there was something trying to connect in his mind. It was very obvious when it finally clicked.

“Akechi,” he said, looking up to meet his eyes. “She’s in my econ class.”

_That_ could be a cause for concern.

“Do you know her by name?”

Kurusu shook his head. “I don’t remember. Which is weird, because I dated her for like, almost a year. I’ve never really paid that much attention to her in econ, either.”

Goro nodded. “If it ends up coming to mind, we should see if we can look her up.” Goro pressed his lips together. Making a call right now probably couldn’t happen, not without more information. “I’m reluctant to say she’s anything dangerous. But in class, make sure you watch your back. And keep wary if she talks to you.”

“Okay,” Kurusu said. He fiddled a little with his sleeve. “Sorry if this ends up being like… actually nothing.”

“It’s a start. Don’t worry about it.” Though it didn’t seem to ease Kurusu’s mind. “Relax. It’s probably the most pointed idea we have. It makes sense that we want to investigate it, even if it doesn’t turn out. Perhaps it could give us a lead, or maybe she’s just as trapped as we are.”

Kurusu bit the inside of his cheek, and nodded.

***

Goro walked out of his first day of classes not as focused as he’d hoped he’d be, but less frazzled than he anticipated.

Kurusu had texted him several times during his final seminar. Goro didn’t check his messages, obviously, but it’d been a distraction to think about. Finally finished though, he pulled out his phone to see what the fuss was about.

_**Kurusu:** holyyy shit Akechi_

_**Kurusu:** she talked to me!!! _

_**Kurusu:** just straight out of the blue _

Well that was a start.

_**Goro:** You mean the girl? _

_**Kurusu:** yup_

_**Kurusu:** her names Hatsu Yamana_

The name wasn’t familiar. No bells rang like they usually did when there was an incoming memory. But that only meant that Goro had probably never met her, or that he never knew her by name.

_**Kurusu:** she actually invited me to this volunteer thing?? _

_**Kurusu:** i dunno exactly but she said she had a group and they needed another person _

_**Goro:** Well I certainly hope you said no. Getting in close contact with her could end up very dangerous, as I’m sure you’re aware. _

_**Kurusu:** i actually said yes but i HAVE A PLAN _

Goro’s grip on his phone tightened.

_**Goro:** Are you joking? _

_**Goro:** Were several instances of her cruelty to you not enough to scare you away? Or are you perhaps more suicidal than I anticipated._

_**Kurusu:** no listen i said i have a plan _

_**Kurusu:** im not actually gonna go dont worry _

_**Kurusu:** but im not gonna tell her im cancelling on her until like day of _

_**Kurusu:** so then if shes planning something suspicious she cant stop it _

_**Kurusu:** and then i was thinking we could like observe from afar or something idk_

_**Kurusu:** and if she turns out to be just some random person then i guess im a douchebag _

_**Kurusu:** but also she cheated on me so i don’t actually give a shit haha _

Goro read through the texts twice. Whether or not he wanted to admit it, it was a good idea. Probably the safest one they could devise right now, if they wanted to gauge if she was up to something. They’d have to scope out the area first and see if it was doable, but that was better than pointlessly brainstorming.

_**Goro:** Let’s talk about it more in person. _

_**Goro:** However, that was smart of you. Just make sure you don’t fuck it up. _

_**Kurusu:** roger that _

***

It was the day of their plan, and the process was going smoothly.

The two of them were sitting in a restaurant across from the event building. They weren’t exactly disguised, but Kurusu kept a hat over his hair and tried not to face the window too fully. They’d gotten there before the event began, and it was currently in progress.

Apparently, Kurusu had seen her go in, but she’d been too lost in the crowd for Goro to get a good look. The scheduled meeting up time was approaching and their scheme was already in action.

Kurusu had been texting Yamana. According to his messages, he was still on the way to the event, just stuck in some major traffic. She stressed that it was fine, just so long as he was on his way.

Waiting for something to happen wasn’t thrilling. But very animatedly, Kurusu informed Goro that after some deeper thought, he remembered Yamana from a few other instances. Less animatedly, he explained that they usually weren’t positive interactions.

“Once she was my manager’s… daughter? They knew each other somehow, but I worked at a carpenter shop. Can’t really say names, but once I fell asleep there and woke up with my shirt nailed to the table and the store flooding from a hurricane. I don’t think I died though.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “I think she also sued me once. I don’t remember why but it got my insurance really fucking pissed at me.”

That felt like all the more reason why Kurusu really… shouldn’t have been spending much time around her. Murder didn’t seem to be the _primary_ goal there, but it tended to be pretty deadly anyway. They discussed a little of him dropping their mutual class, and for his own sake he started considering it.

Though it was curious that Goro had barely even heard of her. Perhaps she had it out for Kurusu specifically, or there was something deeper they had yet to uncover. Though, they weren’t even sure she was actually directly involved yet, rather than just a girl who happened to hate Kurusu.

“Oh man, she’s kinda freaking out,” Kurusu said, looking down at his phone. “Which is weird, cause she’s usually like, dead calm.”

Goro kept his eyes on the event centre. It seemed normal right then, people going in and out and an average air. Typical seeming.

“Well, her texts stopped.” Kurusu looked out the window with Goro. “So, we’ll see what happens now.”

They waited for a few moments, and there wasn’t anything. Goro was worried they would’ve had to be inside to notice anything off. But suddenly the power in the building went out in its entirety. Goro went wide eyed, searching for anything that was more evident from the outside, but within a minute the lights switched back on.

Though most pointedly, did a girl come storming out.

“Shit, that’s her,” Kurusu said barely above a whisper. She certainly wouldn’t be able to hear them, but Goro wasn’t sure he wanted to speak at all.

She looked frustrated, leaving the event quickly and walking in the opposite direction that Goro and Kurusu came. They stared out the window for a long time, before a message buzzed onto Kurusu’s phone.

Reading the text, Kurusu’s face went pale. He turned the phone around for Goro to see.

_**Yamana:** It has finished. Don’t bother. _

Very clearly, the event wasn’t over. People still filed in and out, even what appeared to be some new volunteers were dropped off at the entrance.

Goro and Kurusu made eye contact.

“Let’s talk in my car,” Kurusu said.

They both stood up carefully, watching around them to see if Yamana might pop up unexpectedly. Kurusu had parked in the back of the restaurant, hopefully so no one would recognize him. They piled inside, and for a moment sat in silence.

“That was… suspicious,” Kurusu finally began. “Especially because she clearly lied.”

“I agree.” Goro took a deep breath. “ _Possibly_ still nothing, but worth noting. Especially since you two seem to have a short of history about you. There’s a chance she simply doesn’t like you.”

The thought seemed to make Kurusu grin, for whatever reason. But his expression fell back into a more serious one quickly. “Should we test it again?”

Goro shook his head. “I think that’d be a very bad idea. Just because you avoided any danger _this_ time, doesn’t mean she may not try something more direct.” Goro could only imagine.

“Okay then, what should we do next?”

Goro folded his arms, and thought to himself for a moment. He glanced back up to Kurusu.

“Let’s talk to her.”

***

Goro stood alone, waiting in the basement of the school library. There were small personal study rooms for borrowing, private enough that they could have a conversation without worry of being overheard.

It was Kurusu’s job to bring Yamana in so they could talk. He was a little worried about letting Kurusu be alone with her on the way, but at least it was a public area. It was less likely she’d try something where there’d be several witnesses.

Kurusu had been texting Goro short updates of where they were as well. Most recently was:

_**Kurusu:** be there soon. idk if shes suspicious or not shes hard to read_

Goro put his hand on the back of one of the chairs in the room, and leaned. The text had been almost ten minutes ago, they were surely going to arrive soon. It was hard not to be impatient.

Soon there was a knock at the door, and in walked Kurusu with Yamana. Goro pushed his weight off the chair to greet her, Kurusu showing her in politely. She looked surprised upon seeing Goro, though it was a subtle expression.

“Uh, sorry, I promise we’re not planning something weird,” Kurusu said, rubbing the back of his neck. “We both just wanted to talk to you.”

Silently she looked between Kurusu and Goro. She had long white hair tied back into a ponytail, paired with equally white eyes. She was dressed plainly in navy blue from top to bottom, even the tie in her hair. Her face was very blank, barely giving away any thought or feeling.

“I’m Akechi,” Goro began. “I’m a political science major, I wanted to—”

“I sensed something was off,” she interrupted, voice low and steady. “Weeks ago. Tell me what you know.”

In a bit of a stunned silence, neither Goro or Kurusu elaborated. She stared them down and they stared back, not even sure what explaining they should be doing.

But if one thing was clear, it was that _she_ knew more than them.

“Do not make me repeat myself. It is an action you will regret,” she said with authority. She stood straightly, her presence resounding through the room. It almost felt like a radiance they shouldn’t be looking at.

Goro decided that this was what they wanted, wasn’t it? A conversation?

“We know that you have something to do with our… situation. Who are you?” Goro asked, defying whatever force told him to glance away and glared down at her.

“How did you uncover this?”

Goro frowned, leaving time for Kurusu to answer. “Well, from what we know, it seems like someone made a mistake.”

Yamana’s scowl deepened. “Impossible. I do not make mistakes.”

Goro and Kurusu caught the statement and held on tightly.

“So it’s _you?”_

“Hey, what the fuck.”

“Tell me how you uncovered this,” she repeated herself, laughably enough.

Goro walked closer to her. “I believe we’ve already told you.”

She didn’t seem to like the answer, simply staring with waiting and impatient eyes. It felt wrong, deeply, to maintain eye contact, but Goro wasn’t going to just back down.

“Hey,” Kurusu said, breaking the tension that was building in the silence. “Why don’t you tell us what the hell is up with you, and then maybe we can talk this all out.”

Yamana looked again between them, and then raised her chin high to look down on them. “You seem to misunderstand your positions. Do not talk to me as if we are on the same standard.”

Goro felt his face twist in annoyance. “Who do you think you—”

“I suppose it matters not how you discovered this. This is all according to Fate. I am not something that can be overruled.”

“What does fate have to do with this,” Goro said with a sneer. “I won’t be dictated by whatever game you’re playing.”

She sighed. “You misunderstand your positions. My word stands alone.”

“Who even are you,” Kurusu deadpanned.

“I,” she started, stare growing sharper and voice beginning to distort. The air in the room tensed, almost froze, while Goro and Kurusu were sucked up in the atmosphere. “Am most simply stated as your _God.”_ Almost with emphasis, her eyes took on a glow, something golden and bright. It began hard to look at her, worse than before and with more power.

Her voice deepened, booming with energy and might. “My name is _Yaldabaoth,_ I am the God of Control, and you would do well to obey and succumb to Fate.”

Any words that they may have wanted to speak were stuck, they sat in Goro's lungs unwilling to move. The pressure in the room seeped around, seeming to push past the walls and up into the ceiling.

“The world will run its course,” Yaldabaoth said. “You are not special. Accept what I have decreed.”

There was a final flash of light, leaving Goro and Kurusu feeling breathless and spineless as Yaldabaoth disappeared from the room. The pressure lifted, bringing back the dusty feeling the study area began with.

“Holy… shit,” Kurusu muttered through a gulp. He was staring where Yaldabaoth had stood almost in awe, mixed with horror and confusion.

Meanwhile Goro, still standing firmly, was royally pissed off.

He stormed out of the room, leaving the library through the ground exit and into the cold winter afternoon. Yaldabaoth was nowhere to be seen, truly seeming to have disappeared into thin air.

“Hey, Akechi-san,” Kurusu tried, following behind Goro and attempting to keep up.

“That was absolute _horse shit_ ,” Goro spat, not really in reply to Kurusu but rather just ranting to himself. “There’s no fucking way that’s the truth.” He kept stomping away, not really sure where he was going but needing at least to let off the steam.

“Why do you think—” Kurusu began, and then paused as he grabbed Goro’s wrist from behind him to pull him into a stop. He tugged Goro back to face him. “Why do you think what she said wasn’t true?”

Kurusu probably wasn’t any more calm than Goro was, he just didn’t show it as reverently. “ _It,”_ Goro corrected, “cannot be some god, no matter what the hell it thinks it is.” Kurusu looked confused, so Goro elaborated. “Is this not obviously targeted? Have we not obviously made headway that wasn’t intentional? It said it itself, a god doesn’t make _mistakes.”_

Kurusu frowned. “You think… it was lying?”

“Of course I think it’s lying. What else could I possibly think, that some bullshit fate has coincidentally decided we can’t properly know each other, despite what iteration or lifetime we’re in? It has been going out of its way to keep this cycle going, there’s no way this isn’t preventable.”

Kurusu nodded in understanding, but pressed his lips together and looked around. They were outside, after all. “Let’s keep talking at my dorm.”

“No I…” Goro rubbed his hand on his forehead. “I need time to think. I’m too frustrated to think properly right now. Let’s talk again tomorrow.”

“Okay.”

With hardly a goodbye, they went their separate ways, Goro still fuming.

***

“A minor deity?”

They were reconvening at Goro’s house, discussing Yaldabaoth. There wasn’t going to be time to mope, they needed to figure out what it was they were dealing with. What was it, what its goal was.

“Or something like that,” Goro said smartly. “Since I think we can assume beyond reasonable doubt it isn’t human.”

Kurusu folded his arms. “I mean, I guess that’s a little better than a straight up god. But then, okay, how did we piss off a _minor deity_?”

That was certainly the question. There was a grudge that loomed over them, around them. Just being in the room with it, Goro realized, the tension they felt was an effect of pure animosity. This wasn’t a case where they could simply get along, not that Goro wanted to.

“I don’t recall having ever seeing it before now. You’re the only one who’s ever interacted,” Goro said, and then continued with a jab. “What in the hell did you see in it, anyway?”

Kurusu rubbed the back of his neck. “I thought she looked—I thought it looked ethereal, I guess.” Goro raised his eyebrows, and Kurusu tried to justify himself. “Look, this was the same lifetime I was down to clown with a _ghost,_ okay, let me be.”

It was quiet for a while. A thinking quiet, both of them still trying to wrap their heads around the situation. There was a lot to go over, but no clear place to start.

“What did it mean, ‘God of Control?’ Controlling what? Us?” Kurusu leaned farther back in his chair, a thoughtful dip in his brow.

Goro hummed. “Probably, yes. Though its implications probably mean something more like humanity as a whole, since fate is a human belief.”

Kurusu nodded, then continued thinking to himself, gnawing at his bottom lip. With a sigh, he slumped down.

“I think it… probably doesn’t matter too much what it is, honestly, just how do we like… make it leave us alone.”

“I agree,” Goro said. “Though I really doubt this is a problem that can be solved with something as simple as persuasion.” Once again, Yaldabaoth already seemed quite firm in its position.

“So we thinking like… killing it,” Kurusu suggested, not quite meekly but tiptoeing the idea.

Goro sighed. “If we can figure out how, that would be the most permanent solution.”

Though there was the question of how they would manage that. If this was truly something of a higher and holier power, it wasn’t going to be a simple mission.

By any physical means, Goro thought it probably couldn’t be killed. In fact Goro was sure the body it was occupying wasn’t its actual form, rather a convenient vessel or something it was stuck in. It would be too vulnerable to wander around the school if that was the most raw version of Yaldabaoth. If it had the power it boasted, that wouldn’t be too difficult to imagine.

Which meant, it left them with less options. Would it be effective to give it a symbolic death? Was there a loophole to be found? It was difficult to think of trying several options, since Yaldabaoth was also actively trying to do _something_ to them. Goro couldn’t recall if it had ever outright murdered either of them, but it wanted to do something worthwhile at least.

Which meant it was going to make their attempts all the more difficult. They would have to watch their backs. The law was a frightening obstacle as well, since this could easily be seen as an illegal hunt. If someone saw them actively try and hurt it, it’d be harder to justify themselves and harder to keep themselves safe in the hands of the police.

“What if we,” Kurusu began, interrupting Goro’s thoughts. “Caught it in one of its own traps?”

Goro knit his brow, a little too absorbed in his train of thought to catch on entirely. “Would you elaborate?”

“So we know it's after us right now. It’s probably gonna try and do something to us, lethal or not.” Kurusu straightened himself up, leaning forward onto his knees. “What if we tried to turn the tables on it? Make it die by its own doing, its own mistake.”

Goro gave the idea some thought. Would that count as a loophole? There was something almost solid. If it couldn’t be harmed by Goro or Kurusu, perhaps it could be harmed by itself. The gesture itself could be enough, depending on what it was that happened or how the action was performed.

“That’s _plausible_ , but very dangerous,” Goro warned. “We will have to be very, very careful.” Trying this would entail purposefully walking into traps, and having to navigate them blindly on the spot. A slip up could mean death, and it wasn’t positive that they’d remember again in another life.

But Kurusu gave a lazy grin. “What’s a day without a little danger,” he said. “We could make it a date.”

***

Goro felt positively at his wits end.

For the past week, Kurusu and Goro had been narrowly avoiding Yaldabaoth’s attempts at killing them (where Goro was certain that was its goal now), and there had been too many close calls. Most recently was an attempt to light a bakery they were in on fire, the pair only escaping through an unlocked window that had been overlooked. It was exhausting to be on the lookout every moment of their days.

Though terrifying as the attempts were, they were just as informative. Each attack was something fairly limited, as far as ‘ _holy power_ ’ might go—meaning they were ordinary. No signs of curses, or ghosts, or any other kind of godly magic. Goro assumed that meant it could only use methods pre-set by the world they were in.

Which felt like defining proof it wasn’t a god they were dealing with, just a homicidal nuisance.

It wasn’t easy to make it fall into one of its own traps while also ensuring it wasn’t catching on to their plan. Usually they were both running for their lives, hardly being given an option to turn the tables. Kurusu had called it good cardio, Goro said he’d like to switch gyms.

Right then, they were quietly chatting at a crosswalk. A day after classes (Kurusu had dropped his shared class with Yaldabaoth by now) with a promise to go to Goro’s house and use the evening to study. It was nothing short of awful attending school on top of an attempted murder spree, but an excuse wasn’t going to come by easily.

Kurusu adjusted the collar of his jacket, Goro idly watching cars pass and peering through windshields to see who was driving. A large bus turned the corner, probably speeding a bit too quickly for the intersection they were at. But it was just a typical driver, if maybe one that was reckless.

In what felt like a flash, Kurusu went from beside Goro to stumbling into the street. Purely on instinct Goro reached out and grabbed him by the hood of his jacket, and yanked him back with all his might.

Goro hadn’t even heard it coming, but he saw Yaldabaoth beginning to run off from the corner of his eye. Obviously it had pushed Kurusu, just as the bus began to pass through the crosswalk.

But Kurusu was more impressive than Goro gave him credit for. Still being pulled from the road, he swiftly turned and grabbed Yaldabaoth by its wrist. He pushed himself forward onto the sidewalk using Yaldabaoth as leverage, heaving it out into the traffic instead.

Yaldabaoth was hit by the speeding bus. Its body flew back with force and landed hard on the concrete. And for a moment, everything became still.

People around them began to yell. The bus came to a screeching stop, the driver opening the door and running to check on Yaldabaoth. Kurusu and Goro stood silently, watching as a pulse was checked and ambulances were called.

But in a certain movement and a few disjointed clicks, one arm of Yaldabaoth raised to grab the face of the bus driver, and pushed him off its body. It stood slowly, clothes dirty but skin pristine, and popped it’s shoulder back into place. It stared at Goro and Kurusu.

“You cannot kill me in a material way,” said Yaldabaoth in its low booming voice, looking ticked. “Obey me.”

Without a second thought, Goro and Kurusu ran.

***

Goro couldn’t help but slam the door behind him after they ran up the steep hill to his house, out of breath and beyond frustrated.

“Well that didn’t—” Kurusu said through heaving for air. “That didn’t fucking work.”

“Obviously.”

Goro made sure his door was locked, and then ran his hands down his face in a feeble attempt to calm down. Kurusu meandered into the kitchen and returned with glasses of water, drinking his own as he handed the other to Goro.

After a gulp, and the color of their faces returning to normal, Kurusu pinched the bridge of his nose.

“Did that— _count?_ Like, as it killing itself, or—or using its own means, or whatever?”

“I think the stunt you pulled would probably be as close as we can get to achieving that goal.”

Kurusu groaned, and fell into a chair. Goro leaned on a wall and looked up, staring at the ceiling and barely keeping himself from banging his head into the wood.

It had been hard enough dodging the attempts with a _goal_ in mind, one in sight even. But it had been shattered, and they didn’t have a backup. It was hard to be optimistic when one wrong move was life or death.

“What can we do,” Kurusu asked, head slumped down and surely thinking the same thing Goro was.

“I don’t know.”

“Fuck.”

***

The days that passed felt more stressful than before. Goro began to wonder if his hair might go white.

They sat in Kurusu’s dorm, trying to “shake up” their environment more often to see if it’d offer any ideas. Though usually they strayed back to Goro’s house, and sometimes Kurusu would even spend the night there, because it felt safer being off campus than on.

“Hey, Akechi-san,” Kurusu began, laying on his bed with his eyes shut. “Not to be dramatic or anything, but I don’t want to die.”

Goro sighed. “Then let’s think of something.”

That was genuinely the only answer. Goro was sure they both felt like they’d thought enough to account for an entire fleet, but nothing was hopeful. When there was even a slight chance something could work, it was shot down pretty quickly. They didn’t have the luxury to be anything but rational.

“You wanna try the library?” Kurusu asked. “We could like, look it up or something. Not that I think there’d be a wiki of weaknesses.”

They’d tried the library before, but not to look up Yaldabaoth specifically. A little more information could do them nothing but good, anyway. Goro agreed, hoping it’d spark something or other.

Even though they were decently close, they were very careful the entire walk over. At least the attacks didn’t seem to be daily, and Goro was able to say with considerable confidence that Yaldabaoth didn’t know where they were at all times. They tried to stay mostly unseen while they were out and about, and tried to be careful around their houses. Hopefully Yaldabaoth didn’t already know where they lived.

The library was busy as usual, but Goro found a spot near a corner, thankfully not next to any windows. Kurusu was nearby on a computer, checking academic resources first and then expanding. Goro wandered around the shelves, pulling books of mythology and religions to comb through.

They had been searching on their own for at least an hour before Goro shut one book with frustration. There were different cultures all around the world, there were millions of deities of worship. He’d found no leads so far.

Keeping his jacket on his chair to claim the spot as his own, he walked over to where Kurusu was hunched over a computer. “Have you found anything?” he asked.

“Nada.” Kurusu kept his eyes glued to the screen, several tabs open and a notebook next to him scribbled with notes. Goro leaned back onto the computer desk.

“Neither have I.”

Kurusu clicked through a couple links, but then paused. He stared at his screen with a scowl, and bit the inside of his cheek.

“I feel like that’s weird.”

Goro took a moment to consider that. It _was_ a little weird.

In fact, it was weird that there were any other religions _at all_ , if Yaldabaoth was as influential as it implied. But there was nothing even _implying_ Yaldabaoth, no mention in the most major cultures or apparently not even by web keyword. As if it only existed to Goro and Kurusu.

“I have to wonder if Yaldabaoth is really all that it says it is, or if it’s none of that at all,” Goro commented, looking over at his table of books.

Kurusu rested his hand underneath his chin. “Why is it so focused on us _,_ and not on other people?”

“...Why isn’t it using other people to control us, for that matter?”

There was something more significantly off about Yaldabaoth than they’d realized. Perhaps even a major flaw, an achilles heel—though not one that was pinpointed.

But if one thing was for sure, there were no answers to be found through research.

They packed their things to leave, not technically having made any ground but feeling much less hopeless than when they walked in an hour ago.

***

Late at night (really, more like very early in the morning) Kurusu was sleeping over again at Goro’s house. They were lazing around in his living room, too tense to do more than breathe.

“I think I’m gonna fail my classes at this rate,” Kurusu said from his spot face down on the couch. He was a little muffled, enough that Goro let out a breathy laugh.

“Classes have hardly been on my mind lately, to be honest.”

There was a meaningless dread that kept Goro from being able to focus too hard on his classes. “ _Think of the future_ ” wasn’t very motivating when your future was at risk of being cut short. They’d confided in each other that this was a very mutual feeling, and hard to pull out of.

“I’m getting really tired of this,” Kurusu said, now adjusting himself so his face was outwards. His hair was flying in all directions, glasses folded neatly on the floor.

“So am I.”

“We need to figure something out.”

Goro planted himself to face the conversation, pulling his legs up into a criss cross. “Let’s go through what we do and don’t know,” he suggested, knowing full well they were both over re-talking again. But they did anyway.

“We know,” Kurusu began. “That Yaldabaoth is probably not a god, but that doesn’t mean it’s something that can be killed. Especially not physically.”

Goro nodded. That had been a thoroughly exhausted subject. Killing it wasn’t even their main goal anymore, just getting it away from them would be more than enough. “We also know that it cannot do anything that isn’t already a part of a world. It can’t use some sort of cursing magic, but that means neither can we.”

“We don’t know where its actual body is, if it has one,” Kurusu added. “And we don’t know why it isn’t using its actual body to kill us, unless it can’t access it, or it’s too dangerous.”

“Though then technically, we know that its current vessel is at least safe enough to travel through our lifetimes without it fearing for its safety. And it’s possible its real body is vulnerable.”

Kurusu blew air out of his mouth. Once again, they’d talked these subjects out time after time. They often got stuck on the either or’s.

“Alright, uh, next,” Kurusu began, twisting his body so he was laying on his back. “We don’t know why it's targeting us specifically.”

“And you don’t remember ever bothering it, correct?”

“Yup.”

Goro let himself mull over that fact a little longer. “And I’m the same way.” They had discarded the question of why before, but it might have more depth than what they’d been thinking. “I wonder then, if it’s not something we ever did. Perhaps it’s something outside of our grasps, or even something that we _might_ do.”

“Oh that’s smart,” Kurusu replied. “You think maybe it’s… afraid of something?”

Goro brought his hand to his chin in thought. “That could be the case. It knows more than we do, perhaps we have the ability to trigger something.” He paused, and cleared his throat. “Though this is just a hypothesis. We shouldn’t put too much baseless faith into the idea.”

“That kinda makes me think.” Kurusu picked up his glasses from the floor. “Like, this thing has been putting so much energy into us two. You’re saying it might be _scared_ of us. Then, literally, how are we still alive if it’s so desperate to have us dead? Why are we suddenly so hard to kill, or to bother, or whatever. It seemed to do a pretty quick job before this.”

Goro hummed lowly. “Well, in other worlds we weren’t aware it was trying to kill us.”

“That’s true, but if it’s the god of control, you’d think it wouldn’t matter much if we knew or not. Suddenly it’s having a really hard time, don’t you think that’s weird?”

Once again, Kurusu’s logic seemed fairly sound. Yaldabaoth _was_ weird, this was an odd situation, and there shouldn’t have been a reason that they were so difficult to thwart. Why was there a sudden chance, the only difference being that they know?

Kurusu’s eyes lit up. “Maybe it’s because we’re actively rejecting it now.”

“Rejecting it?” Goro repeated, and then let the thought settle. “You’re basing this… you mean _because_ it’s the god of control?”

“Yeah. Cause like—as far as we know, you and I are the only targets for this control business.” Kurusu paused to think. “Which, uh, I still don’t know why that is, but. If we’re rejecting its attempts to control us, wouldn’t that kinda… diminish it?”

“In what way?”

He scratched the back of his head. “Like… if it’s literal point is to control, but the ones it was controlling are now rebelling, I think that would make it begin to lose it’s… like, entire sense of self,” Kurusu said, and then added on. “What’s a god without believers?”

Goro let himself get lost in the thought. He hadn’t considered that he and Kurusu would be the “believers” to Yaldabaoth’s “godhood.” Perhaps even subconsciously Yaldabaoth had been there, an influence in the back of their minds, controlling without giving them a chance of a second thought. It had repeated for so long, perhaps control was in their nature.

But now that they _knew that_ , they could fight against it; and without someone to worship it, the false god may render itself useless. Too much time had been dedicated solely to Goro and Kurusu; perhaps they were all it had left.

“If that is the case,” Goro began. “We’re more than likely on the correct track to eliminating Yaldabaoth from our lives.”

Kurusu nodded eagerly. “I think so too. We just gotta hold on until it fucks off.”

Goro frowned. “You say that, but we are still in absolute mortal danger. We don’t know what it might try next.” He leaned forward in his chair, watching Kurusu’s bright expression begin to fall back into realization. “Because, if it is as you say, this implies it may be fighting for it’s life. Meaning it’s ours or its. It may take much more desperate measures.”

Goro was also sure that Yaldabaoth would keep them from remembering again if they died here. And something about the fact that it’d been trying to separate them had Goro thinking they wouldn’t be able to finish it off if one of them was killed.

“I think we’re in pretty big trouble then,” Kurusu said solemnly. “Since it definitely knows we’re also trying to kill it. And we haven’t heard from it in a few days, which makes me think it’s getting ready to do something big.”

“We need… more time.”

“Yeah,” Kurusu said. “But how are we gonna get it?”

Goro grinded his teeth together, told his brain that if there was a time to offer some clairy then it was now. “We could… run somewhere that it wouldn't expect. Even just to buy us a day. Because it has to _find_ us to harm us. And to make the active choice to run from fate… Perhaps that could have an effect as well.”

“Like, a fucking roadtrip?”

“I’m not sure we could afford much else. I don’t know if we’re going to get very far either, so we need to pick a spot wisely.” It needed to be thoughtful, or else there wouldn’t be a point in hiding.

They thought for a while. Somewhere that Yaldabaoth had a weaker influence, maybe where they’d never been harmed by it before. Somewhere they didn’t have any significant memories of, nothing that’d be sentimental. They tried to throw out a few ideas, Kurusu bringing up an old abandoned theatre.

“I’m fairly sure you were murdered in a theatre once, you know,” Goro said flatly. It was still troubling that Kurusu remembered less than he did, but there wasn’t time to linger on the fact.

“What about the seaside, then?” Kurusu suggested. “I don’t remember anything there, either.”

Goro paused. “I don’t… either,” he said slowly. “I think there’s a beach a few hours from here. I’ve never been, but that’s probably for the best.”

“Plus, since it’s winter, there's gonna be like nobody there. That’s good.”

Yaldabaoth certainly didn’t seem to care if other people were caught up in the crossfire, Kurusu made an excellent point. If it would give them just a little time to escape, then it would be worth it. It was a chance, but one they needed to take.

“That seems reliable enough to me,” Goro said.

They needed to leave as quickly as they could. With a few nods and a momentary pause, they both stood up and started to pack. They didn’t know how much they’d need, but they packed.

***

Without much hassle, they were on the road in Kurusu’s car.

The beach in question was a decent distance, they were two out of six hours away from the shoreline. The farther the better, but not too much that the gas toll would get out of hand.

“I wish we weren’t in mortal danger,” Kurusu said, eyes on the road beginning to look tired. “Cause otherwise I think this’d be pretty fun.”

Goro was looking out the window, worried about seeing a blur of blue hitchhiking. “I don’t think I’ve ever been one for road trips.”

“You just haven’t been on one with me. I’m a joy,” laughed Kurusu.

His music was playing from the speakers. Goro idly thought to himself that the songs were exactly what he’d expect from Kurusu, smooth and jazzy with entirely incomprehensible lyrics. It wasn’t bad, it was just him. There wasn’t an iteration of Kurusu he imagined _wouldn’t_ like the music.

It was still odd to think about their past lives together, especially compared to who they were today. Goro wondered, if ( _when,_ he stressed to himself) they got out of this alive, and once it was all over, what would that leave them to do? They certainly had questions that needed answering. Both about themselves and each other.

“I wonder if the school will believe that I was being chased by a murderous whatever-the-fuck, which is why my grades droppped and also why they should give me an excuse and not take away my entire scholarship,” Kurusu said, knocking Goro out of his thoughts. It was here Goro realized he wasn’t doing a stand up job at talking Kurusu awake to keep him from drifting on the road. At least he wasn’t so tired that he couldn’t start his own conversations, though.

Goro looked back to Kurusu, taking his gaze away from the window. “Perhaps we should come up with a reliable excuse together.”

“Do you think that we could convince Yaldabaoth to turn itself in and confess?”

“Turn itself in to who? The dean?”

“Yeah.”

Goro rolled his eyes. “Maybe you could ask it.”

“Glad to see you’re down with the idea,” said Kurusu, a grin working its way onto his face. They both felt solemn, Goro knew. It was nice to distract themselves into smiling.

“You know, losing my scholarship would be devastating.” Goro folded his arms, and looked back out the window. “I’ll take what I can get.”

From the reflection, Goro saw Kurusu smile wider. It was nice to see Kurusu thinking ahead, away from their seemingly inevitable mortality. Goro would fight it with everything he could, and so would Kurusu.

It started snowing outside. The snowflakes fell in large but slow clumps, drifting onto the pavement and melting away. Goro hoped it would stop before they reached the beach.

***

After their estimated six hours (correct almost to the minute), and pulling over twice so they could switch who was driving and who could sleep, they arrived at the abandoned beach.

It was sandy and wet, as the snow hadn’t stopped but at least wasn’t sticking. The sand sloped up from the sea and formed a long hill connecting to the street, only separated by a strip of black rocks that, unencouragingly, _had_ begun to pile up with snow. Kurusu pulled into a parking lot a ways down, and parked in one of the many empty spots facing the sea.

A bitter wind was pushing the waves and sent snow sailing over the car in gusts. Goro and Kurusu looked out the windshields with matching frowns.

“Let’s… stay in the car for now,” Goro said.

So there they sat, with the heat on and the gas slowly draining. They’d already pulled into a station to refill—wasting more meant they had less to spend on food and a place to sleep. They didn’t know how long they’d be there.

“So what are we doing, then?” Kurusu asked, who had unbuckled himself and was sitting cross-legged on his seat.

Goro wasn’t entirely sure himself. They’d passed a motel on their way, so they could probably sleep there for a while. His sole worry was how much access Yaldabaoth had that they weren’t aware of, chalking the question up to if it could trace bank statements or debit cards. Putting themselves in the open wasn’t ideal.

They were there for a reason, and it was to figure out how to deal with their circumstances. They couldn’t waste the chance they’d made for themselves.

“We’re really only trying to buy ourselves time to… figure out how to ‘reject’ Yaldabaoth,” Goro said. “So, what we do is brainstorm, I suppose. And hope it doesn’t find us before we come up with a reliable plan, or until it hopefully disappears on its own.”

Kurusu gave him a look. “You wanna rest up a bit first, Akechi-san? You look like you’re dying.”

“I’ll be fine.” With a note of irritation, Goro thought that Kurusu didn’t look any better.

“Nah, let’s go to bed.” Goro scowled while Kurusu buckled back in. “Did you see the motel a bit further back? I bet it’s cheap.”

Kurusu was already backing the car out. Goro let his frown deepen. “I don’t plan on sharing a bed with you, if that’s what you’re after.”

Kurusu laughed a little. “Aw, you don’t wanna huddle for warmth?” He pulled the car around. “I’ll make sure we get a double room. But let’s go to bed.”

Goro leaned into his seat. Sleep was a little too tempting for him to fight it, and the chances that they’d _actually_ be traced were low. He let Kurusu drive them onto the street, keeping his eyes open long enough to spot the motel to spend the morning.

***

When Goro woke up, it was dark outside.

He groaned as he tossed in bed, thinking that probably meant he and Kurusu had just fucked up their sleeping schedules beyond repair. Turning to the alarm clock his suspicions were confirmed, a bright red ‘ _22:11’_ glowing through the darkness.

Kurusu was still asleep. Goro remembered that he’d always slept a lot, something like a trait of his. Goro watched the blankets rise and fall in time with Kurusu’s breathing, a dull way to check he was still alive.

There was a window at the front of the room, very near to Goro’s bed. He sat up and opened the curtains to look outside, flinching when his fingers grazed the cold glass.

They were on the second floor, facing the parking lot. The snow had stopped now, and any that had stuck to the streets plowed away. There was slosh on the curbsides and some remaining piles in the grass, lit up by yellow streetlights and passing cars.

Goro wondered if this was useless. It might’ve been, all in all. Yaldabaoth was more than likely to find them again, it had done it before, and it wasn’t like they could stay in the area long. They didn’t have the funds, or the time, or the luxury of taking a long vacation.

But Goro would’ve much rathered run than sit around and do nothing. Than to have just succumbed to Yaldabaoth’s power and let his “fate” befall him. At least he was _trying._

It was possible that Goro and Kurusu were entirely wrong. They had been wrong in the past, they’d gotten a lot wrong already. It could be a fatal mistake, or a minor one, but it could be a mistake nonetheless.

However, Goro thought, he found himself at least enjoying his time with Kurusu. Despite the running and uncertainty, his acquaintance had been special to him before, and was still special even now. He just hoped he’d get a chance to revel in it.

Goro wasn’t ready to give up, and he didn’t think he was going to. He was going to stand in Yaldabaoth’s way up until it killed him and, if he got lucky again, even past that. Maybe it was just a feeling, but he thought Kurusu would, too.

He wondered if his active rebellion could really weaken Yaldabaoth. Or even keep it away, though Goro doubted that. But if their theory was even slightly correct, it was a foothold that he was going to cherish.

They wouldn’t know anything until they saw it again. And fearfully, that could be very soon. They needed to think. They needed to be sharp.

Kurusu mumbled something, and for a moment Goro thought he’d woken up. Glancing back, he saw Kurusu still in bed, face down on the pillow and hair awry. Goro shook his head, feeling silly that he’d actually gotten startled.

He was hungry. Goro knew himself well enough that doing much on an empty stomach only led to irritability. Scribbling a note down _just in_ _case_ Kurusu woke up, Goro decided he’d go out and see if he could get something to eat for the both of them.

If nothing else, they should eat well. There really wasn’t time to wallow.

***

It was seven in the morning, and Goro and Kurusu were back at the beach. They sat in the car, it still being much warmer than the ever unwelcoming cold beach.

“You think it might be better if we were like, wandering around town rather than just sitting here?” Kurusu asked, eyeing father down the parking lot. It was empty, again.

Goro shook his head. “I think there’s benefit to us being _here,”_ Goro explained. “Yaldabaoth’s power seems very dependent on our cognitions. Purely due to the fact we think this is an area where it can’t find us or control us as easily, it might create a bigger break in its influence. At least, if we’re assuming correctly.”

“Alright.” Kurusu gave a nod, and then sighed to himself. With a frown, “I really can’t keep the car running all day, though.”

Without much deliberation, they decided to pull on their jackets and turn the car off—though they did at least stay inside. The warmth would take a while to seep away, and anything to shield them from the wind and chill air would be for the best.

It wasn’t the most entertaining day. They’d packed along their books and laptops, dedicated to trying to keep their grades from falling into unrecognizable territory. It felt a particular brand of dystopian to have to persevere through school while they were fighting for their lives, but it was what it was.

Kurusu mentioned in the afternoon that maybe just the idea they were going to live through this and continue their academic careers would have an effect on Yaldabaoth. The sentiment was nice, but neither of them were ecstatic to do homework.

Every so often they’d turn the car back on, and warm their fingers by the heaters for a while. They even drove out to get lunch, even if it was only a drive-thru and the actual meal was eaten back at the beach. It was after they’d finished when the sleepiness started to hit, mid-afternoon naps that threatened to be entire sleep cycles.

“Let’s fix our sleeping before we make it worse,” Kurusu said, and they agreed to take a break from working and just talk to keep each other awake.

It was hard to come up with topics that weren’t about their demise. They’d both been trying to brainstorm as well as work all day, but they were drawing blanks after blanks. Just talking about general bits and pieces of life felt too far off to even consider.

Eventually, Kurusu suggested they take a walk. The cold might wake them up a little, and it never hurt to move around.

“We’re by the ocean, we might as well take it in.”

They set out. Goro took in one last moment of heat before admitting himself out of the car, certainly feeling that shock of cold to help keep his eyes open. Kurusu took a bag with him, though Goro didn’t catch what he’d stuffed inside. Without much ado, they started walking along the seaside, the gray sea ebbing and flowing loudly.

It was a nice smell, salty and unfamiliar. The sound of the waves mixed with their footsteps was almost nice. If he didn't think he would’ve enjoyed a road trip, Goro definitely would have enjoyed their walk if their looming elephant in the room wasn’t around.

Kurusu was watching the ocean. Goro thought to himself that they’d never really gotten much of a chance to do this sort of thing. Not without an unknown pressure, and maybe in the moment the ignorance had been bliss. But now that he knew, looking back made him feel grimy and sick, the idiot he’d been to never question.

The shore stretched on and on, and soon they’d lost sight of the parking lot. Farther down, Goro could see the black rocks that seperated the sand from the road began to cover the beach, changing the terrain and blocking their path. Stones climbed down from a natural hill with a tunnel carved in for driving, the same one Kurusu and Goro had driven through when they arrived.

“You wanna sit down?” Kurusu asked as they grew near the rocks. He gestured to his bag. “I brought a couple blankets.”

Without really waiting for Goro to respond, Kurusu took one from his bag. It was small and off white, and he tossed it onto the ground. Goro frowned, and Kurusu noticed the look.

“It’ll be warmer if we don’t sit directly on the cold sand,” he justified himself, pulling out the other and last blanket.

“Are you really so desperate to share a blanket?”

“I mean, we don’t have to if you don’t want to.”

Goro sighed, folding his arms further into himself. “I don’t really mind.”

They wrapped together, a deep blue blanket that was double the size of the off white. It was still cold, so they sat close, bringing an almost-warmth. Goro wished he could say it was anything more than what it was, but the mood wasn’t right for a romance. They were sitting, and they were cold, and they were waiting. That was it.

It was quiet for a while. Kurusu was breathing just out of time with the waves of the sea, but it was a steady rhythm. Goro sat and listened, trying not to let reality settle in too deeply.

“Do you think this will work?” Kurusu asked suddenly. He was still staring out at the ocean, eyes looking tired and even more gray than their usual. Goro took a deep breath.

“I don’t know,” he admitted. Though Kurusu already knew there weren’t any certainties.

“There’s gotta be a better way of rejecting Yaldabaoth than this.”

“Assuming we can, I agree.”

It was quiet again, one that was filled by thoughts. Back to brainstorming, but it was all they could do. Their most active was their most silent.

Kurusu straighted his glasses further onto his nose. “Do we just—yell in its face until it dies, or something?”

“That would be quite the spectacle.” Goro pressed his lips together, and pulled the blanket further around himself. “Make sure you ask it to write a confession first, though.”

The comment got a laugh from Kurusu. Goro let himself chuckle too. His mouth felt dry and he couldn’t feel his fingers, but even with the overwhelming doubt, he wanted to exist for a moment.

“I wonder if we’re doing enough,” Goro said, closing his eyes as his sleepiness began to catch up to him. “If this is all it will take.”

Goro felt Kurusu adjust the blanket a little further over the both of them. “Maybe we did more than we thought in our past lives. Maybe they’ll come around and save us.” He didn’t sound hopeful, more intuitive than anything. Goro opened his eyes just a little, staring down at the sand.

“I’d be willing to believe that’s how you gained your sparse memories, but I don’t think it’s enough to combat a false god.”

Kurusu looked over at Goro very suddenly, with a thinking look on his face. Goro waited, watching his brow furrow further and lips fold into a frown.

“You know what,” Kurusu said slowly. “I think that’s exactly what happened—about my memories.” He looked down at his fingers, laced together and looking cold. “It’s familiar, trying to do _something_ to remember _something else._ You kept telling me to find you, when you were disappearing. And I didn’t understand what you meant, obviously, but I think—I tried. And I think I did something super dumb, too.”

Kurusu laughed lightly, while Goro kept looking down at the sand. “That doesn’t surprise me. It doesn’t surprise me you didn’t reap the results of that until now, either.”

Kurusu hummed. He rubbed his hands together, and breathed warm air onto them. Goro thought they should’ve brought along gloves.

“Maybe we have to do something stupid,” Kurusu said, rubbing his palms together again.

“As in, you think we’re thinking too hard?”

“Yeah. Maybe we’re better off than we think.”

It could be good to think like that. If they were going to put their money on the assumption that their beliefs in Yaldabaoth were tied to its power, maybe just the simpleminded train of thought would give them a leg up. Less room for doubt.

Kurusu looked completely freezing, and Goro was feeling the chills as well. But he was enjoying being here, and Goro thought his mind felt clearer in the open air. Giving into the idea of warmth (and something else, that Goro didn’t want to admit until after they solved their predicament) Goro leaned onto Kurusu, not quite feeling the heat through their jackets but willing to let himself wait until he did.

They sat together, fully bringing the blanket around them and staring at the ocean. Sharing doom together had an ironic sort of intimacy, it seemed. Kurusu let his head rest onto Goro’s, not exactly comforting but absolutely present. And present felt like more than enough.

There was a very loud car that revved from behind them, both of them jumping at the sound. They turned to the sound, and it screeched to a stop, an icy blue that’s metal seemed to reflect off nothing. It was in the middle of the street, not far from where they sat, and in a quick movement did Yaldabaoth emerge looking angrier than Goro had ever seen it.

“Oh, shit,” Kurusu said, jumping to his feet and offering his arm to help Goro stand.

“How did it find us?”

Yaldabaoth was walking quickly towards them, and they started to back off. Neither of them trusted to turn their backs to it for a second, as they walked across the shore parallel to the sea.

“Cease immediately,” it said, in its low and booming voice. It sent a vibration that felt like it hit Goro’s core, deep and resounding. “You have gravely misunderstood who you are, and you will pay in full.”

Kurusu’s face welled up in fear and frustration. “Fuck off!” he shouted as it marched onto the sand. The cold wind rushed, stinging their faces and blowing their hair back.

“What sort of _threat_ are we to you that you’re so desperate to keep up this act.” Goro didn’t ask it as a question. As they were, Goro and Kurusu seemed entirely harmless. Despite everything, they still didn’t understand why. Goro didn’t want to die without an answer.

“I owe you nothing,” Yaldabaoth said. “Accept your fate.”

It didn’t end its pursuit, trudging towards them through the sand and beginning to corner them near the rocks at the end of the beach. But there was something off, Goro realized, watching it stumble.

It looked sickly. It was limping, each step more visibly so. As it grew closer, Goro could see its skin had become pale and washed out, taking on an eerie blue hue.

He muttered to Kurusu. “Do you see how it’s… walking?” A bit of confidence began to work its way through Goro. There was something right about their theory, and if that was the case they only needed a little more.

“What are you really?” Goro yelled, standing his ground. Kurusu stopped with him, only looking bewildered for a second. Goro gulped. “Surely no god would struggle to kill two mortals.”

“Silence,” it said, moving forward even as its knees began to buckle. The anger it radiated was almost tangible, buzzing with animosity.

Kurusu put his arm in front of Goro, urging him to back off a little further. They took a few steps back for every one that Yaldabaoth tried. The wind blew faster, and harder, and it almost seemed like it’d knock Yaldabaoth over if it gained any more strength.

“Where are your followers?” Kurusu asked. “We know you’ve been wearing yourself thin doing this on your own. We’re all you have, aren’t we?”

“ _Silence. You know nothing,”_ Yaldaboth sneered. Its movements were becoming more mechanical, like it was going towards them on willpower and instincts alone.

They may have hit the nail on the head. Or they had come across a tactic that worked well enough, despite the reasoning.

“You’re depending on us,” Goro said. If there was a point to drive home, it was this one.

“I do not _depend_ upon you,” Yaldabaoth roared. “I am going to _kill you,_ and I will not fail to keep you from interfering with me ever again.”

Goro and Kurusu both picked up on the word choice. “Interfering?” Kurusu pinpointed. “Is that why you’re keeping up your stunt? You think we’re going to interfere with you? Do you know we know how to kill you?”

He was bluffing, but there was some truth laced around it. They had an idea, and it was slowly proving itself.

“You cannot kill me. I am immortal.” Its voice began to distort, losing itself in its rage. Goro took that as a good sign.

“We’re all that’s keeping you here. Your control keeps you tethered. You’ll be nothing without it.” Goro stopped stepping back, Kurusu staying at his side. Goro stared Yaldabaoth in the eyes, despite the atmosphere it brought that made Goro want to fall to his knees. “Perhaps we can’t kill you, but you’ll be gone.”

Goro hoped Kurusu was right, that a god couldn’t exist without believers.

In an obvious movement before Yaldabaoth fully fell before them, it lunged at Goro. Kurusu kicked its body away, and it crumbled onto the sand. It was weakened, more than before, glaring up at them from the ground.

“Why did you target us?” Kurusu asked, no sympathy in his voice. “Why did you revolve around our lives?”

It shuddered and started heaving itself across the sand. Each movement clicked, its joints popping and bending in broken ways.

“I will...not...fall here…” it murmured.

Goro stood tall and walked up to it, saving Yaldabaoth the effort. He put his foot squarely onto its head and began to press down. “It created its own downfall,” he said.

Yaldabaoth tried to force itself up, but Goro pressed harder, applying a pressure that caused a loud thump when its skull hit the ground again.

Kurusu crouched down next to it, looking it up and down. “Pathetic thing,” he commented, glaring sharply and speaking through his teeth. “It didn’t take much to fuck you over, did it.”

It tried to heave itself up again, its eyes growing wide and squirming in anger. Goro didn’t pity it.

“Whatever you thought you knew,” Goro spat, now drilling his heel into the side of its head. “ _You didn’t. Fuck you.”_

With a final screech that sounded more mechanical than human, Yaldabaoth stopped struggling. Its body went limp, folding on itself and leaving something lifeless behind. The blue of its skin and clothes washed out, desaturated and blank and almost unrecognizable.

Goro kept his heel against its head, until something broke like porcelain, splattering out blue sand that trickled onto the shore. It almost seemed magnetic, the way it clumped together and meshed into the beach. Goro lifted his foot, shaking off his shoe.

They stared at the body. It was a husk of nothing, hollow without something conscious flowing through it.

“Is it… dead?” Kurusu asked, eyeing the sand that began to sputter to a stop.

“If not dead,” Goro replied. “It can’t come back.”

***

Goro and Akira sat on the rocks near the road, looking down at the beach where Yaldabaoth’s body sat. The sun had almost gone down by now, but they could hardly tell over the quilt of clouds that stretched past the ocean’s horizon.

They were sitting huddled underneath the blanket again. Neither of them knew exactly what they should do, so they just sat. Partially they wanted to make sure the body wouldn't get up and start walking around again, ensuring that it was gone for good.

Though, Goro noted, he didn’t think it would. The body was broken, the connection was lost. It hadn’t been flesh and bone—it was more like a doll fashioned to live.

“I’m surprised we never noticed the body wasn’t human,” Goro said. “It makes sense that it couldn’t be killed by physical means, beyond just its powers.”

Kurusu nodded. “It was kinda weird, huh.”

There was a short pause, and Goro blinked. “Speaking of,” he said with a light tone. “You _dated_ that thing, and you never noticed?”

“Uh, well.” Kurusu sounded sheepish, rubbing the back of his neck. “She wasn’t—it wasn’t—It was a weird relationship, okay? We didn’t really do that kind of stuff.”

“Oh, so ten months, and you never…” Goro trailed off. Kurusu shoved him with his shoulder playfully.

“I’m _telling_ you, it was weird. I think we kissed like, twice.”

Goro laughed quietly. “The god of control liked to take it slow. Interesting.”

They didn’t talk for a little while after that. Goro looked out over the sea, trying to wrap his head around the fact that it was over. He didn’t think he could doubt himself, or else there was a chance Yaldabaoth could return. His new normal had to be a life without that fear.

They still didn’t understand why they’d been targeted. It had gone without telling them any answers, but it had been fighting for its life, like a cornered animal. What had it known that they didn’t, even about themselves? What power did they have, or could have had, or once had, that posed such a threat to Yaldabaoth?

They had been lucky that its circumstances were so dire. The way it revolved around them couldn’t have been how it always was—but Goro supposed fear made anything irrational. It truly had written the song to its own demise. Perhaps its own “ _fate_ ” was punishing it.

The waves began to ebb farther onto the shore, more water filling the beach with every passing moment. It inched deeper and deeper onto the sand.

“Ah,” Kurusu started. “High tide tonight.”

“So it seems.”

The water grew closer to Yaldabaoth, almost touching its outstretched hand like it was reaching for comfort. With one wave, it grazed over it’s fingers.

Kurusu squirmed under the blanket. “Should we, uh…”

“Leave it,” Goro said. Kurusu seemed content with the answer.

The waves washed over the body, and as slowly as the tides rose did the body drift into the sea. It didn’t float, sinking as it was taken father and farther away, until it was out of sight completely.

_And it’s gone,_ Goro thought.

Once again, Goro and Kurusu sat and watched the waves. It was getting very dark now, only lit up by the streetlights lining the road. They could barely see what was in front of them, grounded only by the smell of the salt and the sound of the ocean.

Goro looked over to Kurusu, who had somehow ended up with a funny look on his face. “What is it?” Goro asked, hoping he wasn’t starting to get regrets.

“I just realized,” Kurusu began, sounding less serious than he looked. “That the last person-thing I kissed just got sucked into the sea.”

Goro raised his eyebrows. “Are you asking for something?”

Kurusu looked at him out of the corner of his eye. They held the contact for a moment, both trying to read each other but doing terribly in the low light.

“Depends on the answer,” Kurusu said.

Goro sighed, and lifted his hand to rest on Kurusu's jaw. He guided his head so they were facing each other fully and cupped his cheek. His face was warm against Goro’s fingers, he was almost tempted to sit and take it in. But instead, Goro leaned, and gave a slow kiss that succeeded in warming his body from head to toe.

When they separated Goro smiled, and Kurusu let out a breathy laugh.

“Hopefully lightning doesn’t strike,” Kurusu said, and Goro chuckled with him. At least if it was lightning, their deaths wouldn’t be by someone else's hand. Though Goro was enjoying himself a little too much to wish for thunder.

They sat again for a while, close together as the darkness fully enveloped their surroundings. It wasn’t until Kurusu said, “Okay, it’s fucking cold,” and Goro was inclined to agree that they left, with one last glance to the ocean before walking to the car.

In the coming weeks, Goro would have to get himself out of the habit of looking over his shoulder for death threats, but he’d adjust. The feeling of being stalked and watched would take long to fully leave Goro and Kurusu’s minds, and they’d never quite forget, but they relearned how to relax in little ways.

Later, they would flinch at an article describing a horrifying puppet body wrapped in seaweed and gunk that washed up from the ocean. One that terrified beach-goers until they realized it was an inanimate doll that felt like sandpaper to the touch.

And carefully, they’d check to see if anything came of the story. But it was soon overwhelmed with real news, and the doll was left to rot in a landfill. No one claimed it, no one to recognize it, it was buried beneath the garbage of humans without air to breathe.

It was a weight lifted. For the first time there was truly nothing to obscure their path, and they’d forged it with their own hands. They had lifetimes to remember, and lifetimes to look forward to, making up for all the lives they’d lost.

For the first time, they would both breathe, and remember, and live.

They were going to _live._

**Author's Note:**

> [girl in blue](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-UgDKX0-ho4&ab_channel=AnimalSun-Topic)  
>    
> \----
> 
> art: [crafty_scrafty](https://twitter.com/Crafty_Scrafty/status/1354520574886899713?s=20), [jerrybeannn](https://twitter.com/jerrybeannn/status/1354520539147235330?s=20)
> 
> tumblr: [honeydots](https://honeydots.tumblr.com/)  
> twitter: [honey_dots](https://twitter.com/honey_dots)


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